


Come Back Home

by yunmin



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Biggs lives, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, M/M, Multi, Non-Linear Narrative, Polyamory, Post-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Reunions, Rey Skywalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 05:43:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8878168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yunmin/pseuds/yunmin
Summary: When the Jedi Temple was attacked, Biggs and Wedge lost a daughter and a husband in the wreckage.
Fourteen years - and countless days of strife - later, they get them back.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PunsBulletsAndPointyThings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunsBulletsAndPointyThings/gifts).



> I saw this prompt go up when they first started coming in and was like ‘YES’ and then thought ‘if no one writes it, I’m doing it.’
> 
> I did it.
> 
> Beta-ed by [spookykingdomstarlight](http://spookykingdomstarlight.tumblr.com/), who is fab and made this a thousand times better. All remaining mistakes are my fault.

**Now:**

Biggs lands his small, one-man ship on the D’Qar airstrip to zero fanfare.

That’s the way he likes it. It probably helps that he doesn’t fly an X-Wing these days. Not regularly, at least. He misses it, a bit, but there was one thing X-Wings rarely were: subtle.

(Not that that has stopped anyone else using them, and when Biggs is on base he finds it all too easy to get caught up in the pilots’ games of one-upmanship, and to find himself back in those oh-so-familiar cockpits, performing acrobatics across the sky.)

Exiting his ship, he finds a single person making up his welcome party. “Hello Tabala,” Biggs says, as she gives him a quick nod.

“Good evening, Admiral Darklighter,” she replies. “The General is waiting for you in her office, if you’ll follow me.”

He does so. She weaves him through the quiet corridors, though the entire base is too quiet. Biggs remembers what it was like on Yavin, after the destruction of the Death Star, the raucous exuberant energy that had thrummed through the base. That is missing. Or maybe he just isn’t seeing it.

He still doesn’t have all the facts. He’d received an urgent summons from Leia, regarding something that she would not speak of, and on the way here he’d heard other news. The destruction of the Hosnian System. Starkiller Base. An emergency message sent out, to him, placing the leadership of the Resistance in his hands if D’Qar was destroyed.

And now he’s here, going before Leia with far too little information. Biggs has never been fond of facing his sister-in-law like this.

“She’s expecting you.” Tabala Zo stops in front of Leia’s door. “Just go in.”

She vanishes before Biggs can probe any further. So he pushes Leia’s door open.

She sits in her desk chair, but she’s not facing her desk. Instead, she’s staring at the wall, wearing a look of grief that Biggs hasn’t seen haunt her face so intently for many long years. At the sound of the door, she looks over to him, and through many long years of practice, manages to put a smile on her face. “Biggs,” she says. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Leia,” Biggs replies. He finds his way to the seat on the other side of her desk and sits down in it. “I heard about the Hosnian System,” he says, hesitantly. He knows he’s still only grasped part of it. “Is Korr…?”

“Dead.” Leia says it definitively. “Along with everyone else in the system. And a number of the pilots who flew against Starkiller Base; Ello Asty, Niv Lek, Cliar Rabblo, Quella Nishti… It’s a long list. And…” Her voice catches on a rough note.

For a moment, Biggs fears the worst. He frantically runs his mind back over Wedge’s schedule. It shouldn’t have taken his husband anywhere near the Hosnian System, but Wedge has been known to change his itinerary last minute enough times before.

“… Han.”

Kriffing hells that’s almost so bad, and Biggs feels so guilty about the relief that sinks through his system at the idea that it isn’t Wedge. Han and Leia have been estranged for a while, but Biggs knows they still love each other.

Han wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near this mess. What happened?

“That’s a long story,” Leia says, as Biggs realises he’s voiced that question aloud. “And there’s no good way to tell it.”

“You could start at the beginning.”

Leia folds her hands. “I guess I’ll have to.” She looks contemplative. It’s impossible to tell exactly what’s going through her head in this moment. “Poe Dameron managed to find the map to Luke,” she says, cutting straight to the heart of it. “It turns out it’s only a fragment of a larger whole, but it’s something.”

“And how did Han get caught up in all this? Last I heard, he was hauling merchandise for Kanjiklub.”

Leia raises an eyebrow, and Biggs belatedly realises that he possibly knows more about what Han was doing that she does. If only because Wedge occasionally lent Han a hand in these things.

“Dameron got captured. On Jakku. By Kylo Ren.” Leia’s voice is cold and emotionless and perfectly even. Biggs’ insides are a scrambled mess at the mention of the boy who took almost everything from him. “He escaped, with the aid of a defecting Stormtrooper. And then they found the Falcon, on Jakku, and used it to escape. Han caught up to them. Took the Stormtrooper and BB-8 to Maz. By then, Ren and the First Order knew we had the map, and came after them.”

Biggs can tell that Leia’s skipping over huge chunks of this tale, but he stays quiet.

“This is when the First Order first fired the weapon. The Hosnian System was destroyed. Ren had captured a girl, who was with Finn and BB-8, and she knew where our base was. And meanwhile we were trying to mount an attack on Starkiller Base. Han had come back, and he proposed using the Falcon and Finn’s knowledge of the base to get in and disable the shields.”

“Just like Endor,” Biggs comments.

Leia nods, but she doesn’t smile. “Just like Endor.” Only it isn’t, because Endor had a happy ending, and this is anything but. “He did it. And Dameron’s people shot the thing up, just like the old days.”

“So what happened?”

Leia takes a deep, shaky breath. “I— I told him to bring our son home. Biggs. I told him.” She screws her eyes shut. “Kylo… Ben. He killed him.”

A bolt strikes right to Biggs’ heart, the shock nearly sending him over. After everything that Ben has done… this shouldn’t be shocking. He leans over and takes Leia’s hand, brushing his thumb over the back of it.

“I’m so sorry, Leia,” he says, very softly, aware of how inadequate the words are.

“No,” she says, firmly. “It’s alright.” She dabs the corner of her eye, and Biggs knows it very much is not alright. She furrows her mouth, as if there’s something else she needs to say, and she can’t find the words to say it. “We’re one step closer to finding Luke. And we destroyed the weapon. That’s important.”

“What aren’t you telling me?” Biggs asks.

Leia definitely looks uncomfortable, or as close as she ever gets to it. She runs her fingers over the rim of a glass of water on her desk. “On Jakku. There was a girl. BB-8 found her, and she picked up Finn, the Stormtrooper, and flew the Falcon.”

“You mentioned there was a girl. Kylo Ren captured her. Is she alright?”

“Yeah,” Leia says, nodding slowly. “She’s alright. She fought him, on Starkiller Base, after he killed Han. With Luke’s lightsaber. The one he lost in Cloud City. It turns out that Maz Kanata’s had it for all these years. She gave it to the girl.”

“She’s Force sensitive?” Biggs enquires. If that is it, then Leia is making far too big a deal out of this. “I’d like to meet her.”

“You should.” And then Leia pauses again. “Her name is Rey.”

Everything empties out of Biggs. His insides are raw, shredded, and all he can sense is static. Nothing is real. The room swims before him, and then everything fires again, overwhelming him in a swell of emotions he doesn’t know how to handle.

He clenches his hands, feeling his nails cut into his palms. He has to get a grip. It doesn’t have to mean what he thinks it means. There are lots of girls named Rey in the universe.

“Is she…?” He can’t even finish the words.

“I don’t know,” Leia says. “She’s the right age. Looks a little bit like her. And then there’s the Force, and Luke’s lightsaber…” Leia trails off. “Han thought she was. He seemed sure. But I don’t—”

“We never found a body.”

Biggs finds the words slipping from his mouth before he can think them through. They’re Wedge’s words; words that Biggs has always hated. A refrain repeated so often that it almost drove Wedge mad with hope, with the belief that their daughter hadn’t died at the temple that day along with everyone else. Biggs had always thought it ridiculous. Rey was gone.

Only, now… what? There’s hope? It’s welling up in Biggs’ chest even as his brain issues cautionary warnings. Regardless of hope, he has to be rational about this. But still. The ache of her absence, the one he’s long ignored and buried because it hurts too much to think about, is back. It slices right to the core of him.

This is how Wedge has felt every day since they got the news, Biggs realises. Shredded, but paralysed by hope.

“Wedge,” Biggs gasps, suddenly. “Does he know? He’d know if it was her, I know that. Force, he—”

Biggs can’t breathe. He’s pulling air into his lungs but it’s not doing anything. The room is spinning.

“I’ve left him a message,” Leia says. “I can’t get hold of him, but I’ve told him to get over here as quick as he can.”

“… You can’t get hold of him?” And the earlier dread is back and Biggs puts his head in his hands and wants to weep. “Force, Leia, I can’t either. What if he dropped by Hosnia? He does that sometimes. What if—”

Biggs can’t force the words out. They get stuck behind the lump in his throat, and his face is hot, and there are tears pricking at his eyes and he can’t. The universe wouldn’t be that cruel, to give him back his daughter and one of the men he loves only to take the other away from him.

An arm wraps itself around Biggs shoulders. “Wedge is alive,” Leia says, tugging Biggs into her grasp. “He’s alive, Biggs, trust me. I can feel it.” And Biggs knows that Leia wouldn’t lie to him, not about this. So he weeps with relief in his sister-in-law’s lap, while she rubs reassuring circles into his shoulder and doesn’t comment on any of it.

He hasn’t cried like this in almost fourteen years, not since Leia told him that Luke had up and left in the wake of losing Rey and the devastation of the temple massacre. Since picking himself up after that, he hasn’t thought much about the daughter he lost. It had been too painful. And now she’s alive, and Wedge is alive, and there is hope of finding Luke, and it’s more than Biggs knows how to handle.

“Go and see her,” Leia says, after he’s straightened up and has wiped away his tears. “See what you make of her. For yourself.”

Biggs looks at Leia, wide-eyed. “Yeah.” He tries to convince himself he isn’t petrified at the thought. “Where is she?”

“I handed her off to Dameron,” Leia says. “At a guess, they’re either still in the medbay, or in the pilots’ ready room. I’m not quite sure. But go find her. Talk to her. I’ll stay here, and try and get hold of Wedge, and see if I can make any sense of the map to Luke. Go.”

She makes a pushing motion with her hands, and Biggs gets up. Looking back at her, he asks: “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“No,” Leia says. “But the best thing you can do about it is go and see if you can put your family back together, Biggs, rather than worrying about me.”

Biggs nods, and leaves.

.

**Three months ago:**

Biggs landed his ship on the wide open field outside Wedge’s home.

Technically, it was his and Wedge’s – they’d bought it together, after they both were unable to face returning to the home they’d enjoyed before the massacre, where memories of happier times had permeated every room and had been permanently tainted by all that had happened – but Biggs had never spent much time here. Almost all of his possessions were with the Resistance, scattered between the _Echo of Hope_ and D’Qar and whatever place the Resistance had sent him that week.

Wedge came out, standing in the lee of the doorway, and quietly waited for Biggs to finish the landing procedures and turn the ship off.

“I don’t like the sound of that engine whine.” Wedge cocked his head towards Biggs’ ship as Biggs wandered towards him.“You should get it looked at. Your stabliser looks a little off, too – what have you been doing to the poor ship?”

“It’s good to see you too, Wedge,” Biggs replied. He knew it was only Wedge’s way of showing he cared. His heart was ripped out of his chest fourteen years ago, and maybe he wasn't the husk of a man he was in the immediate aftermath anymore, but he was still a little broken.

Biggs cupped Wedge’s jaw and kissed him, soft and brief, a touch that spoke of years of long familiarity. Wedge wrapped his arms around Biggs’ neck and they stood there for a while, just breathing each other in.

Eventually, Wedge took Biggs’ hand and led him inside.

Biggs had a couple of days of leave – Leia had insisted. “You have a husband who’s still willing to speak to you,” she’d said, when Biggs said he’d prefer to stay and focus his attentions on the search for Luke. “I won’t see you lose him because you’re too busy focusing on the other one. Who left you with barely a word I might remind you.”

She’d been adamant, and Biggs was sort of glad she’d been so insistent; it was good to see Wedge. They didn't see each other enough these days. Wedge was… not exactly opposed to the work Biggs and Leia were doing with the Resistance, but that didn't mean he supported it.

Belatedly, Biggs wondered what Wedge would think if he knew they were looking for Luke. Would he support that?

“How are you?” Biggs asked, as Wedge busied around, picking up flight manuals and odd pieces of machinery off the table.

Wedge had looked for Luke, before. After the dust had settled and the dead had been counted and it was clear that their daughter was gone and that Luke really had left, Wedge had torn after him. Searched the galaxy, desperate for answers he wasn’t going to get. Eventually, the despair had overcome him, sending him spiralling into a depression Biggs had been unable to pull him out of.

“Well enough,” Wedge said, sitting on the small settee. “You?”

Even now, Biggs was aware of how fragile Wedge’s recovery was. Telling him that they’re pursuing leads that could bring them to Luke would be reckless.

“I’m okay,” Biggs replied.

He and Wedge have had years to get used to this, and even now, they weren’t sure quite what to do about the space between them caused by Luke’s absence. Did they pretend that he was simply away doing some Jedi business, as he often had done, and that everything was okay? That he didn’t get their daughter killed, and abandon a grieving desolate Wedge? Or that he’d turned his back on Biggs, just as Biggs had wanted to reach out to help him?

(They couldn’t. They’ve tried.)

“How long are you here for?” Wedge asked.

“A couple of days,” Biggs said. “Is that okay?”

Wedge looked over at him, reaching out to take Biggs’ hand. “Of course.” He tugged at Biggs, and Biggs went willingly, spilling against Wedge. They fit together easily, Biggs falling into the hollows of Wedge’s body. His head came to rest on Wedge’s chest, and Wedge’s arms encircled him, keeping him close and ensconced in warmth.

It wasn’t easy, navigating a relationship where you’d both lost so much. Once, someone asked Biggs why he and Wedge were still together – given how it had been Luke who’d brought them together. And yes, maybe, the relationship between Biggs and Wedge had been the weakest of the three that made up their triad. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t real. It didn’t mean that Biggs didn’t love Wedge with all his heart.

Besides, there wasn’t another person in this Galaxy who understood what was like to love Luke Skywalker, or what it meant to lose him. No, Biggs and Wedge were bound together for life.

When Biggs left Wedge’s, four days later – he’d stayed longer than he meant to – Wedge had kissed him goodbye on the doorstep. “You take care,” he said, clutching the lapels of Biggs’ flight jacket and pulling him in for another kiss.

“I will,” Biggs replied, holding the back of Wedge’s neck, fingers laced in Wedge’s fine hair. “You too,” he said, in place of the words he wanted to say and wasn’t able to voice. It seemed silly to talk about the concept of love in a world that had taken so much from them. Biggs kissed Wedge again, soft and open-mouthed, and considered staying a little longer. He could take Wedge back to the bed they’d vacated not so long ago, and think about telling him all the things he hadn't said, and end up losing himself in Wedge. But the truth was that Leia needed him with the Resistance, and he couldn’t stay.

“Always,” Wedge replied. “Some of us lead safer lives, besides.” He kissed Biggs in a simple straightforward press of the lips and then stepped back, letting Biggs’ jacket fall from his hands.

“Send me your schedule,” Biggs said, taking a step towards his ship. “I want to know what you’re doing.”

“I will,” Wedge replied.

At the gangway of his ship, Biggs turned back to look at Wedge. There was a brief moment in which he contemplated telling Wedge everything. That Wedge had a right to know that Biggs and Leia were going to scour the entire Galaxy in search of Luke. But it was still early days, and they were uncertain that they’d find anything. No. He’ll have to tell Wedge eventually, but when they have something concrete. Until then, he wouldn't risk disturbing the peace Wedge had found for himself.

He blew Wedge a kiss, and he thought he saw Wedge crack a smile in response. But he was far enough away that he wasn’t entirely sure. It could have been a scowl, or a grimace – but a smile was a nicer image to take with him. Biggs had to go back to the Resistance. And when they found Luke, and dragged him back, Biggs could bring him to Wedge and Wedge could finally get the answers he so craved. Then, maybe, he’d smile easier.

.

**Now:**

Rey and Poe aren’t in the medbay, or the pilots’ ready room. But Nien Nunb sees Biggs looking and tells him that Dameron took her to the mess.

(He also gives Biggs a sympathetic look. He now knows what it’s like to have two Death Star runs to his name. No one has three; thank goodness.)

That sends Biggs down more corridors, almost back past Leia’s office. He doesn’t mind the walk as much as he should. It gives him time to think. What is he going to say to her? Leia had said she didn’t know, didn’t remember anything about the life she might have had before she was taken from them.

If it even is her, and Biggs doesn’t know if he’ll know whether it is. It’s been fifteen years. Would he be able to tell? He’s not sure, but he sets that aside. There’s a girl, with Luke’s lightsaber, who’s fought an almighty battle to come to them, and she deserves his attention – regardless of whether or not she is Biggs’ long long daughter.

He walks into the mess with a false sense of calm worn around him like a cloak. Lets his eyes scan over the crowd. Amongst the tables, groups sit, gatherings grouped by pilot orange and Resistance green. And then:

In the corner. Dameron, still in his flight suit. And across from him, attacking a plate of food like she's never seen one in her life, is a girl.

Leia’s right: she does look like Rey. Or rather, what Biggs imagined the baby girl who’d been abandoned on their doorstep would grow up to look like. Her hair is dark brown, pulled back and scraped into three buns.

… Wedge had done her hair like that once. Fuck. She’d loved it, preening her head this way and that to look in the mirror at his handiwork, and kept touching her little hands to the buns, reassuring herself they were still in place. Even Biggs had smiled at how cute it had been.

A hairstyle does not a daughter make, though.

Moving closer, Biggs can see the toll that the desert has taken on her. The rattiness of her clothes. The irritation caused by sand against skin. Even if she isn’t their daughter, Biggs hates that this girl grew up the way she did. He didn’t mind Tatooine half as much as some, but the desert is no place for a child. Not on their own.

Hell, it doesn’t matter if this Rey is the same Rey they took in before. Biggs has a feeling they’ll end up adopting her anyway.

Poe talks a mile a minute about everything and nothing. Food options and… Starfighter parts? “So, the ventral cannons on the T-85s were completely—” He suddenly catches sight of Biggs, slowly approaching their table. “Umm. Admiral Darklighter, sir. Hello.”

His hand is half-way up in a salute before Biggs manages to say: “At ease, Poe.”

Poe puts his hand back down. “I didn’t know you were on base,” he says.

“I’ve just arrived,” Biggs says. “Thought I’d come and congratulate you on the destruction of Starkiller Base. And meet our latest recruit.” He tries to avoid looking at Rey too intently, studying her face for any sign of recognition.

“Oh. Okay,” Poe says, looking between Rey and Biggs. “Rey, this is Admiral Darklighter. He’s the Resistance’s second-in-command, officially, and the head of the Navy. Admiral, this is Rey.”

There’s no trace of recognition on Rey’s face. Biggs sticks out his hand for her to shake. That’s safe. He’s fighting back an urge to tug her into his arms and never let her go again, and he can’t do that. “You can call me Biggs. After everything you’ve done, I think you deserve that.”

Rey takes his hand, and shakes it lightly. Biggs notes the callouses. The one between her thumb and forefinger is a pilot’s mark. The others; they are indicative of years of hard-work. Too much work, for a girl of nineteen. “Are you sure? Admiral?”

“I am. Leia’s told me all about you.” Biggs takes a seat, on the bench, across from Rey and next to Dameron, who shuffles over for him. “And well, if that’s not enough, call me Biggs from one desert kid to another.”

That brightens her face up, surprisingly. “You too? Not from Jakku, I guess, but… well, a desert’s a desert. What do you think of all the greenery here? And the water!” She gestures at a glass of it. “Straight out of a tap! As much as you want. I’m not sure I believe it.”

From besides Biggs, Dameron gives Rey this befuddled, endeared look, like this is the tenth time he’s heard this today.

“You should; it’s real,” Biggs tells her. “I grew up on Tatooine, and I never hurt for water, because of who my father was, but my friends did. And when I landed on Yavin – I stepped off the Rand Ecliptic and I think I stared for hours and hours. Wedge used to tease me about it like anything, those first weeks. Then Luke turned up and did almost the exact same thing and I didn’t feel quite so alone in it.” Rey’s eyes are wide, and they widen at the mention of Luke’s name. “Yavin’s a jungle planet. You should ask Poe about it really, he grew up there. But there were these great big canopies, just outside the temple, and after the Death Star was destroyed Luke and I snuck out and just sat there, taking it all in, marvelling at the idea that two kids from Tatooine who’d known nothing but sand and heat and twin stars could suddenly be sat underneath all this green as heroes of the Rebellion.”

Biggs gets caught up in the memory of that moment. Sitting with Luke alongside him, not quite believing it was all real, that they’d survived. Luke had looked at him with clear blue eyes and grief in his heart and told Biggs about everything that had happened, the adventures that had brought him to this place. And what it had cost him. And how Biggs was the only person he had left who’d known him before any of this, and that that _meant_ something. Not that he’d been explicit about what that was, but Biggs had had a pretty good idea. He’d felt the feeling of love welling up in his chest, and had since he first glimpsed Luke across the hangar at Yavin.

Throughout all this, even distracted by Luke’s golden hair and blue eyes and the flush of his skin as he talked excitedly, Biggs had found his thoughts inexplicably straying to Wedge—

“You knew Luke Skywalker?” Rey asks, her voice light and curious. Poe splutters, and then attempts to cover it, badly, with a hand over his mouth. “What?” she asks, directing her attention over at Poe. “Did I miss something?”

Poe’s having a difficult time composing himself, so Biggs answers for him. “I knew Luke. Since we were little kids, really. He was my best friend.” Rey looks a little befuddled. Between the look on Biggs’ face, and the way Poe’s reacting, she’s clearly worked out that there is more to it. “We were married. Are married, I guess.”

Rey’s eyes widen into surprise, her mouth opening slightly. She seems unsure about how to reconcile all the tales she’s heard of Luke the Jedi Master with the idea of Luke as someone’s best friend and husband. They’ve never worn rings, or any symbol to mark their commitment, and Biggs has never minded that, but right now he wishes he did have something. Then he remembers that he does; there’s the photograph he keeps in his jacket pocket.

He reaches for it. It’s a physical photo, printed on a slip of flimsiplast, kept in an inside pocket. He’s done this for a long while – when he first went away to the academy, it was of his family. Then it was Luke. Then Luke and Wedge. Then Luke and Wedge and Rey. Now… now, it is a picture of him and Luke and Wedge, in happier times. After the war. Before Rey’s arrival.

“That’s us,” he says, pushing the picture over to Rey, who studies it closely. Dameron, too, cranes his head over the table to get a better look. “Luke and me and Wedge, my other husband.”

Biggs didn’t bring out the picture in hope of jogging memories in Rey, but he looks to see if it does all the same. Nothing.

“Wedge was the other pilot on the Death Star runs,” Poe whispers to Rey. “Took down the first AT-AT on Hoth, too. One of the greatest pilots of the Rebellion.” Rey nods, taking it all in without a trace of recognition of the man who raised her for five years. “Is he okay?” Poe raises his voice to direct the question at Biggs.

“As good as he ever is, these days,” Biggs replies, keeping the worry locked down in his chest.

“Glad to hear it,” Poe replies, and Biggs cannot overstate how relieved he is that Poe doesn’t enquire further.

Rey is still looking at the picture, studying Luke’s smiling face. “Can you tell me about Luke?” she asks. “I have this,” she says, lifting up the lightsaber and placing it on the table. “And a vision, of him, terrified, in these dark corridors. But that’s it.” Shakily, she lifts her eyes to meet Biggs. “I thought he was a myth.”

It takes almost everything Biggs has not to blurt that Luke was her father, and how much seeing her like this hurts him. Because with that look, he is almost entirely convinced that this is their Rey, and his heart breaks.

“Yeah,” Biggs says. “Yeah. I can tell you about him.” The question is where to start. “There’s this place called Beggars’ Canyon, on Tatooine,” he says, deciding to start where it really began. “And when Luke was thirteen, he decided he was going to fly through it in his little Skyhopper, and everyone thought he was insane. Everyone else thought he’d fail; I figured he’d do it, but it didn’t make it any less insane. So every day he’d talk about it a little more…”

Stories of Tatooine have always been the easiest to tell. Biggs has told this one enough over the years. Poe’s nodding along like he’s heard it before, which he probably has. In the early days of their relationship, Biggs and Luke had traded tales with Wedge, each story growing ever more ludicrous until Wedge had started to suspect they were embellishing them.

They had been, a little, but this one is the solid truth.

And a nineteen year old Rey hangs rapt on Biggs’ every word, just as her four year old self had, the first time Biggs had told her this story.

.

**Nineteen Years ago:**

It was a warm day on ____, the planet that Biggs and Wedge and Luke now called home.

Well, when they were there at least. Biggs and Wedge were both still in the navy, and it was rare to have all three of them in the same place at the same time. No matter how hard they tried to co-ordinate their schedules, it rarely worked.

Biggs sat in the open area of the military base that was attached to the planet. They’d picked their home with their careers in mind, but it hadn’t worked out quite the way they’d hoped. Wedge spent very little time planet side, and Biggs was forever being called to larger, more important bases.

But this time, they’d both got leave at the same time, and so Biggs was just waiting for Wedge to be cleared so they could leave and go home to Luke. And Biggs was relishing in the thought. Three whole weeks, they’ve wrangled. Three weeks to lose himself in Luke, to kiss Wedge senseless, to enjoy the company of the two men he loves so dearly.

Wedge was running late, and Biggs checked his chrono again. Luke was likely starting to wonder where they were. Finally, Wedge appeared, looking slightly harassed. “Let's just get out of here,” he said, when Biggs walked up to him, intending to enquire what was wrong.

“You alright?” Biggs asked, quickly, as they made their leave.

“I’m fine,” Wedge said. “Things with the squadron… not so great. But that can wait until I’m back. I don’t want to talk about it. Let's just enjoy our leave.”

Biggs had a sneaking suspicion what someone might have thrown on Wedge as he’d tried to leave. He’d heard rumours of a promotion for months.

Wedge, as always, likely had no intentions of taking it. But he was getting older, and – well, this would be the fifth one he’d turned down. As the years went on, he was finding it harder and harder to stay in the cockpit where he wanted to be.

(Not that Biggs could blame him. He was stupid enough to take a promotion, and now spent far more time behind a desk doing datawork than anything exciting. It was essential work, but… That didn’t mean he liked it.)

They walked through the streets towards the apartment they shared with Luke on the edge of the city. The sun beat down on them, bathing them in its warmth, and Biggs could feel the tension slowly building, the promise of Luke making them giddy; a warmth rose through him that had nothing to do with the heat and everything to do with want.

Both of them were tripping over themselves on the way up the stairs and to the door, hardly dignified for men in their thirties. But it had been almost two months since Biggs last saw Luke, and six since he last had Wedge and Luke together, and all he’d wanted since he saw Wedge was to pin the man to the wall and slip his hands under the cream shirt he was wearing and make him buckle with pleasure.

It was difficult to restrain himself from doing that as he followed Wedge into the apartment. But he did, because he wanted to see Luke. And everything seemed normal – there was a baby crying somewhere close which was unusual, but it was possible that they just had new neighbours.

“Luke?” Biggs called, because usually Luke was on them the moment they walked in the door – Jedi calm be damned. And not even in that way, but to greet them with a kiss and some kind words, but there wasn’t even that.

Biggs was so distracted by Luke’s absence that he walked straight into Wedge’s back. Wedge had stopped, stock-still, in the middle of the apartment. “Eh?” Biggs was confused. Wedge didn’t seem to be moving, or reacting. And then he heard the baby’s cry again. Close. He lifted his head up and followed Wedge’s sight line and saw Luke, standing at the window with a baby in his arms.

He was rocking her, back and forth, as she wailed; a high, keening noise that made her sound like she was dying, but Biggs knew from experience that she was probably just hungry, or needed changing.

Not that any of that was pertinent right now. “What?” Biggs said, the exclamation falling from his lips as he attempted to process what was in front of him. “Luke, why do you have a baby?”

“Someone just left her on our doorstep.” Luke shifted the baby in his arms. She just cried harder, and Luke’s face fell in despair. “I came home and I found her and I can’t get her to stop crying.” And she let out a wail then, her little fist working furiously as she made her displeasure known. “I’m sorry,” he said to the baby, in a tone that was not in any way soothing. “I’m sorry. I wish I knew what you wanted.”

“Give her here,” Wedge said as he finally broke out of his trance. As he stepped across to Luke, his expression was near inscrutable. He took the baby with ease, wrapping her up and bouncing her up and down ever so gently, and she quieted quickly enough. He looked down at her, and she stared back up, eyes wide and still wet with tears, and she gurgled at him. And suddenly Wedge’s face softened into the most adoring smile and Biggs knew that they’d lost Wedge to her.

Luke looked astonished at the ease with which Wedge held her. He took a step back, gingerly, leaving the baby in Wedge’s capable hands.

“Do you have anything for her?” Biggs asked. “Milk, nappies?”

Luke, surprisingly, nodded. “She came with a bag of things.” He led Biggs into the kitchen, where, sure enough, there was a small bag sitting on the countertop. “There’s not much.”

“It’s enough, for now.” Biggs searched through the bag and found a bottle and a stash of formula. “Can you call the store, ask them for the essentials? She’ll need some more formula – this isn’t going to last long – and ask Marya to throw in some clothes, too. For a—” Biggs thought back to the size of the baby in Wedge’s arms. “Three month old?”

“What do you mean?” Luke asked.

Biggs looked across at him. Luke was standing in the middle of the kitchen, making no moves to help, while Biggs prepared a bottle for the baby.

“What I said. She’ll need clothes, and changing things, and formula, and a whole host of other things, and we don’t have any of it.”

“Why?” Luke asked. “Biggs, we can’t keep her. She isn’t ours.”

Biggs narrowed his gaze. Luke’s face was open and sincere, and he seemed earnest in what he was saying. “What are you going to do? Return her to her family? Who abandoned her on our doorstep? That doesn’t seem a responsible course of action.”

“No, of course not.” Luke looked frustrated that Biggs would ever suggest he’d be so cruel. “Maybe not her primary caregiver, but she surely has relatives who might care for her? Or we hand her to the authorities. They can find a home for her.”

Biggs shook his head. “And I’m wagering that there’s a reason someone would abandon her on our doorstep. Is she—”

“—strong in the Force?” Luke finished Biggs’ question easily. He sighed. “Yes. She is. There was a note, on the bag.” He gestured to the scrap of flimsiplast on the countertop.

Biggs went over and read it. _Rey belongs with you, Master Skywalker_. “Look, I’m not saying we should take advice from the sort of person who abandons a baby on a doorstep, but… they might have a point. Putting a Force-sensitive kid into the foster system? Bad idea.”

“What’s the alternative? We raise her? Biggs, have you looked at the three of us? What do we know about raising a baby? It would be a disaster.”

Biggs scrunched up his face and closed his eyes. He loved Luke, he really did, but for someone who could sense thoughts and feelings, he was remarkably dense sometimes. “Didn’t you see Wedge’s face when he took her?”

Luke cocked his head to the side, considering it for a moment. “… Oh,” he said, eyes widening with understanding. “Wedge wants a baby.”

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

Biggs gave his shoulders a light shrug. “Honestly? I don’t know how long. Long enough.”

Luke’s mouth worked into an uneasy frown. “But why didn't he say anything?”

“Because he’s Wedge, and he’s never been any good at asking for what he wants.” Biggs stepped across the kitchen to stand beside Luke, leaning back against the counter. He threaded his fingers through Luke's, holding tight. “You know that. And he knows as well as we do that we’ve never been in a place to raise a family. But now you have literally placed a baby into his arms, and I think if you try and take her – Rey –” Because the baby had a name and if they were going to do as Biggs was proposing, they were going to have to use it. “Away from him… you’d make him so desperately unhappy, Luke.”

“I’d never do that.”

Biggs wrapped an arm around Luke’s shoulders, pulling him into a loose embrace. Luke’s hands curled up into fists, resting lightly against Biggs’ chest. “Not on purpose, I know Luke.” Biggs cupped the back of Luke’s head, and placed a soft kiss on Luke’s forehead. “Give Wedge a chance with her. If her family comes back and wants her, then that’s another thing. But for now… let him have his moment. We can work out the logistics later.”

A cry sounded, sharp and piercing, from the living area. “Biggs, Luke, she’s hungry. Have we got anything for her?”

Biggs turned back to the bottle of formula he’d been in the middle of preparing when he’d got distracted by Luke. He finished the work, testing the warmth of the milk on the inside of his wrist, like he’d watched his mother do so many times before.

Then, he took the bottle to Wedge. He was pacing back and forth across the living room, Rey curled snug against his chest but she was steadily working herself into a fit. “Hey.” Biggs kept his voice hushed as he approached her. “Hey, Rey. It’s okay.” He handed the bottle to Wedge, who took it gratefully, and settled in one of the armchairs to feed her.

She went at the bottle like she hadn’t been fed in days – though Biggs supposed he had no real idea when she was last fed. It could have been that long, but he hoped it was only a matter of hours. Biggs stayed close, resting on the arm of the chair, watching the two of them. Wedge was so easy with her already.

And Rey… Biggs had never been a huge fan of babies. He’d never quite seen the appeal. But Rey was sweet. Curls of dark hair framed a round face with rosy cheeks and dark lashes. Her hands which were so small, were reaching for the bottle, and she managed to catch one of Wedge’s fingers in her own.

Wedge smiled at her, eyes lighting up in delight. “Aren’t you a sweetheart,” he told her. Then, he looked to Biggs. “Did you say her name was Rey?”

“Yeah.” Biggs rested a hand on Wedge’s shoulder, leaning over to stroke Rey’s cheek. Her skin was soft and warm, and Biggs felt his heart flip in his chest. They were keeping her. He’d fight for her as much as Wedge would. “That’s what the note said.”

“Hello Rey,” Wedge said, in a soft tone that was full of adoration and warmth.

She paid him little attention, being so devoutly focused on her bottle, but Wedge didn’t care. He was smiling at her like she was sunshine personified, and Biggs would do anything to keep that look on his face.

She finished, pulling away and closing her eyes. Her mouth made soft shapes, blowing a little bubble of spit.

“She needs burping,” Biggs said, quietly. Wedge probably hadn’t forgotten, just risked getting distracted by how cute she was.

“I know.” Wedge didn’t take his eyes off her for a second. “Is there a cloth?”

“Here.” Luke appeared, with someone's old shirt. Wedge took it and laid it over his shoulder and focused on her, while Biggs raised an eyebrow in Luke’s direction. “I did learn something looking after Ben,” Luke said, with a sheepish grin.

Rey spluttered softly against Wedge. One of her hands had grasped the edge of his flight jacket in the fiercest grip, and as Wedge lowered her down he had to untangle her. She rolled into the crook of his arm, sleepy and content.

When Biggs looked across at Luke, he saw the same look of adoration that he felt. It had gripped tight in his chest, a love so fierce it ached; not just for Rey, but for Wedge and his happiness.

“Wedge—” Luke’s voice was soft and low. He didn’t want to disturb Rey.

“Can we keep her?” The words slipped out of Wedge’s mouth in a fast rush. “I want to keep her. Have a family. She deserves someone who cares. I want to do that for her. I—” He looked up at both Biggs and Luke, eyes blinking rapidly and mouth in an unsure line. “I’ll resign my commission. To look after her. If that’s what it takes. I just…”

Luke was the one to lean over and capture Wedge’s mouth in a soft kiss. “Of course,” he said, catching Wedge’s gaze and holding it steady. “Whatever you want, Wedge. We’ll make it work.”

“We love you,” Biggs added. Wedge turned his head, eyes wide and full of hope, and Biggs brushed a thumb against his jaw and kissed him too. “We’ll work out the logistics later. We love you, and we’ll love her. That’s all that matters.”

Wedge was struck dumb, but it was clear how much this meant to him. Biggs wrapped an arm around Wedge’s shoulders, and Luke perched on the edge of the chair and all three of them focused their attentions on a tiny, sleeping Rey.

.

**Now:**

Biggs has a largely restless night, tossing and turning in remembrance of both his husbands, the idea that they are one step closer to Luke’s return, that their daughter has been given back to them at the forefront of his mind.

(Not that he’s mentioned it to her. He doesn’t know how to begin broaching that topic.)

He’s almost grateful for the knock on the door that pulls him from his bed in the early hours of the morning. “One moment,” he calls, pushing back the covers on his bed. He grabs his jacket from where he dropped it last night; it’ll be necessary if this is a military summons. Other than that, he’s adequately dressed, given that it’s the middle of the night.

(The shirt he’s wearing belongs to Wedge, thought, and is a little short in the arms, but he hopes whoever it is doesn’t stick around long enough to notice.)

“What is it?” he says, opening the door.

He expects Tabala Zo, or Kaydel Ko Connix – maybe Major Brance, or Admiral Ackbar, or Commander Dameron, or even Leia herself.

He doesn’t expect Rey. Standing so precariously, her face flushed, tear tracks down it; she’s been crying.

Has something happened to Finn? Biggs heard her concern for the Stormtrooper in the medbay earlier. But that wouldn’t explain why she came to him. She’d have gone to Dameron, or Leia, or one of the girls her age, not the aging Admiral who’d interrupted her dinner.

“I had a dream,” Rey begins, her voice a little shaky. “It’s a dream I’ve had before. Of my family. But I’ve never been able to identify anyone in it; I’ve never been able to remember their faces, just the feeling of love that surrounded me. But tonight…”

Biggs tries to school his face into neutrality, and wait for Rey to finish what she’s saying. He’s fairly certain he fails, not that Rey notices.

“Tonight. I knew who they were. The man who picked me up and held me, who smiled and told me how good I was… he was the man in your picture. Not Skywalker, the other one.”

“Wedge,” Biggs breathes, daring to hope.

“And I remember him laughing, and bundling me up to go out. And we stood outside and Luke…” She’s uncertain. “Luke came up and put me on his shoulders so I could watch the ship come in. And I remember how exciting it was. The thrill in my stomach.”

Biggs thinks he remembers too. He’d flown in just before her fifth birthday, on leave, to a scene so like the one she describes.

“You stepped off that ship,” she says. “You did, in a uniform I don’t recognise but it was you, I’m sure of it. It was you and you hugged Luke and took me from him and kissed my forehead. Didn’t you? Or am I just making all this up?”

She clutches at the wrappings on her arms, looking so small in Biggs’ doorway.

“Are you my father?” she asks, voice barely above a whisper.

What can Biggs say to that? He has his suspicions, but they’re just that. He has no concrete evidence. “I think so,” he settles on.

“You think?” Rey’s face looks confused, and then a little angry, and betrayed.

Biggs’ jaw tightens, nervous. “It’s a long story,” he says. “You better come in.” When she doesn’t, is twitchy and hesitant at the thought, he adds: “You can leave at any time. I just don’t think we should have this conversation in the corridor.”

“Oh. Okay.” She walks in, towards the chair that’s sitting at an angle at Biggs’ desk, surreptitiously dabbing at the tears across her face. Trying to convince Biggs that this isn’t one of the most important moments in her life.

(Biggs knows that it is.)

“Luke, Wedge and I…” Biggs starts, settling on the bed, looking across at Rey. “We had a daughter. Her name was Rey, and you look a little bit like she did, and you’re the right age too. We lost Rey, our Rey, in the Jedi Temple Massacre, when she was five years old. We assumed her dead. But we never found a body…” Biggs looks away from Rey, towards his own shaking hands. “And then you show up, with her name, and Luke’s lightsaber, and suddenly I’m not so sure any more. I’ve got nothing to prove it, Rey. Nothing. But I think you are her.”

He looks up and meets her gaze and sees the shock flooding through her eyes. The way her hands scrunch against her knees, as she tries to process this information.

“Is there any way to prove it?” she asks, her voice quiet.

“I don’t know,” Biggs says. “There’s no biological relation from any of us to you, and never was. Maybe there’s something on file, somewhere, that could. I’m not sure I care. If you want me to be your father…” He tightens his mouth, feeling the words get stuck in his chest. This was never his role. But for all that he’s only known Rey – this Rey, the nineteen year old scavenger – for a matter of hours, he thinks that she would appreciate this. And he wants it. Honestly. Now that there’s this girl who would be his daughter in front of him, all the parental feelings have come rushing back. “I’m happy to do it. Regardless of whether you are the same girl. It doesn’t bother me.”

Rey looks struck, her mouth falling open, and she emits a small gasp. She takes several deep breaths. Biggs wants to go over, physically comfort her, the way he and Wedge and Luke had been so quick to do when she was small, but fearing that it’s too much. “Why didn’t you say anything? Earlier, when you came to sit with me? Did you know then?”

“I had my suspicions,” Biggs admits. “I didn’t want to say anything until I was more sure. And not in front of Poe – he’s a good kid, but this is private. There aren’t that many people who know that we had a daughter. And…” Biggs sighs. There is still no news of Wedge. “If I could, I wanted to wait for Wedge. He’s the one who was your parent, really, and he’s spent the last fourteen years grieving your death. It only seemed right to wait for him. He’s the parental one. Not me. I was always awful at it. Don’t think I’ve gotten much better over the years.”

“No,” Rey says, a sharpness and defiance in her tone that is unlike anything she’s said yet – and also so much like her that it hurts. “You’re doing fine.”

“With respect, I think I’m doing awfully.”

Rey almost cracks a smile, because Biggs’ tone is light. “Where is he? Wedge, I mean?”

“No idea,” Biggs admits. “I can’t even remember his schedule, which shows how good a husband I am. I think he’s probably heading to ___ where the flight school is, but he might still be on Breshva VI, which he calls home these days. We can’t get hold of him.” Rey’s face falls, her mind likely jumping to the same conclusion Biggs’ had done. “Not an immediate cause for concern. He’s alive, out there somewhere, and he’ll make his way back eventually. It’s Wedge.”

Here, Biggs allows himself a small smile in memory of Wedge, whose quiet strength and durability was a blessing throughout the war. (Which had made the way he’d fallen apart after Rey’s death all the more heartbreaking, even if he’s now managed to piece himself back together. Force, Biggs hopes that the news of Rey’s survival won’t shatter him again. Wedge might be driven to distraction knowing that Rey was out there all those years on her own, but with any luck he’ll be so delighted to have her back that none of that will matter.)

“Okay.” Rey nods, slowly. “I want to meet him. And Luke. Put our family back together, Dad.” She lingers on the word, cocking her head. “Pa? I don’t know. What did I call you?”

“Luke was Pa, Wedge was Papa, and I was Dad,” Biggs says, remembering with some fondness the conversation between the three of them when that had been sorted out.

“Dad.” She tries it again, this time savouring it. “I like it. Dad. And Pa, and Papa. Yeah. That sounds good.”

Biggs is struck with love for this strange, curious child, his daughter. “Can I hug you?” he blurts, unable to keep it in any longer.

She looks at him in surprise, but says: “Yes. I’d like that.” And she is on her feet and meets him half way, burying herself in his arms and wrapping her arms tight around his waist. Biggs holds her close, noting the wiriness of her frame, how small she is, but relieved to have her back.

She reminds him of Luke. He’s tried not to think of Luke every time he sees her; it isn’t fair to her. She’s her own person. But with her in his arms… it’s difficult not to make the comparison. These two Force-sensitive, desert children, desperate to be loved. And Biggs had loved Luke as naturally as breathing. It only made sense that he’d love Rey as well.

He cries, tears falling onto her hair, but she just holds close and her own tears well up against Biggs’ shoulder. “It’s okay Dad,” she mutters, her voice utterly muffled in Biggs’ shirt. “I’m home.”

.

**Sixteen Years Ago:**

Biggs’ sleeping patterns still hadn’t adjusted to life on planet, instead of on-ship. A three month space-bound rotation, and now four weeks of leave, and instead of being in bed with his husbands, he was sitting at the kitchen table nursing a mug of hot milk and reading through mission reports.

They were dull enough that he was honestly hoping they might send him to sleep.

Not for the first time, he contemplated asking the Navy to stand him down, give him an assignment where he might get to spend some time with his family. It was one thing to only see Luke every couple of months when Wedge was doing the same thing, and Luke was dashing about the galaxy with Jedi business. Now, they had a house, and a school to run, and a day-to-day life that Biggs was unfamiliar with.

And their daughter. Rey had grown so much since he last saw her, and he hated missing it.

He also hated the idea of a desk job, or leaving the military entirely, so he was stuck with what he had until he could think of a situation in which he could get everything he wanted.

(And if Biggs had learned anything from the war, it was that such situations didn’t exist.)

The house was quiet, so Biggs was easily distracted by the patter of feet that echoed down the hallway. He looked up, expecting to see Luke, who’d woken up in the night and found the bed emptier than it was supposed to be and come to retrieve his errant husband and soothe him back to sleep.

Instead, he found Rey, toddling along, clutching the stuffed Ewok toy Wes Janson had bought her. She was rubbing her eyes, clearly tired, and Biggs wondered if she got up and out of bed in the middle of the night a lot?

(And then he felt awful, because what father wouldn't know the answer to that question?)

“Dad?” Rey asked, when she caught sight of him. “Why are you awake?”

“I could ask the same thing of you, little one.”

Rey made her way over to him, and Biggs picked her up and sat her on his lap, holding her tight. Rey pulled the Ewok toy into her own lap, holding it the same way Biggs held her.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she said, eyes glancing over the writing on Biggs’ datapad.

Biggs quickly moved it out of her sight line. He didn’t think she’d begun to read too much yet, but better safe than sorry. He could imagine Wedge’s words in his head, if Wedge found out he’d let Rey read military reports, and it wasn’t pretty.

“Same as me then,” he said back to her. “Any reason?”

“Not really,” she said, in a disinterested voice, the sort that made Biggs suspect there was a reason but – for whatever reason – she didn’t want to tell him. No problem with that, he guessed. He’d let her have her secrets. Though he should check with Wedge whether she did this a lot – because then there might be more to it.

(Wedge likely already knew. Biggs had never had doubts, from the moment he took Rey, that he would turn out to be a bad father, but he’d excelled at it. He adored Rey, and she adored him straight back.)

“Fair enough,” Biggs replied. He wasn’t sure what else he was supposed to say. Rey wriggled about a little on his knee, and he adjusted his arm around her, ensuring that she was secure. With his other hand, he reached for the glass of now luke-warm milk. Rey tilted her head, curious. “Do you want some?” he asked. “It’s warm milk. Well it’s supposed to be anyway. It’s got a little cold, now, so I’m going to have to warm it up again.”

“Sounds nice,” Rey said. “Yes please.”

Biggs picked her up from his lap and set her on one of the counter tops as he retrieved his own mug from the table, and a fresh one from the cupboard for Rey. Some more milk from the conservator was poured into the second glass, then both mugs went into the microwave.

“Do you want to go and sit on the sofa, and I’ll bring the mugs over when they’re ready?” Biggs suggested to Rey, and she nodded. So he lifted her down, and watched as she made her way slowly over.

The milk was done fairly quickly. Biggs placed his hand to the side of Rey’s mug, ensuring that it wasn’t too warm. It reminded him of what he’d done when she so much smaller, testing bottles of formula before passing them to Wedge. He took them over, setting his own on a coaster on the coffee table, and handing the other to her.

“Careful,” he said. “It’s hot.”

It wasn’t that hot, but he still wanted her to be careful with it. She took the mug seriously, wrapping her little hands around it, her little legs dangling off the edge of the sofa. He watched her with careful eyes, as she took a small sip. “It’s good,” she said. “Thanks Dad.”

“No problem, sweet.” Biggs wrapped an arm around her back, gently supporting her. Kettch, her toy, lay between the two of them, and Biggs carefully retrieved his own mug. They drank in silence, Rey’s little slurps contrasting with Biggs’ longer swigs.

He finished his mug first, and placed it back down on the table. This time, it had done its job; he could feel weariness seeping into his bones, and the call of sleep. But he had to ensure that Rey finished hers safely, and then he really should put Rey back in her own bed, too.

But when she finished her mug, and placed it carefully back on the table, Biggs found he had very little energy left. Especially when she then curled herself into his side. “Love you, Dad,” she whispered, her hands balling in his shirt, and her eyes falling closed.

Biggs didn’t have the heart to move her. He just swung his legs up onto the sofa, adjusting her slightly so she fit into his side better, and let his eyes fall closed too.

He drifted off to sleep in complete peace, his arm wrapped around his daughter.

The next morning, he awoke to Wedge, watching over them from the hallway door with a soft and contemplative look on his face. “You don’t know how sweet you look with her,” he said, with a smile on his face. “No, don’t move,” he said, when Biggs attempted to do that. “I’m going to get Luke. He ought to see this.”

Wedge came back five minutes later with Luke in tow, five minutes in which miraculously Rey hadn’t stirred. Biggs had watched her, quiet in sleep; her dark lashes fanned across pale cheeks. He could barely believe that this little girl was theirs, and that she trusted him enough to easily fall asleep in his arms.

Luke wore a similar expression to Wedge; impossibly fond. “That’s a nice sight to see in the morning,” he said, and Wedge hums in agreeance. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“You know what it’s like, coming off rotation,” Biggs said, and both his husbands nodded, because they remembered it well. “I’ll be okay in a couple of days, just need some time to adjust. What about Rey? Does she go wandering about in the middle of the night often.”

“No more than any other three year old,” Wedge said. “She wakes up a bit, but she doesn’t often get out of bed though.”

Luke cocked his head, considering something for a moment. “If she woke up, and felt you were awake – she might have come looking? She’s picking up on a lot, at the moment.”

Right. They’d adopted a child who was extremely Force-sensitive, and had to go through all the pitfalls involved with that. Biggs remembered that Ben had gone through a similar thing at a similar age.

“We can worry later,” Wedge suggested. “How about some caf?”

Biggs nodded, and that finally caused Rey to stir. She blinked, eyes wide, and looked up at him. “Morning dad,” she said. Then she turned her head to Wedge and Luke. “Morning Papa. Morning Pa.”

“Morning Rey,” Wedge said, with a wide smile. “You want some breakfast?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Sounds good.”

.

**Now:**

As the dawn light breaks over D’Qar, Biggs takes Rey out to the Starfighter hangar. Neither of them have slept much since Rey turned up at Biggs’ door. They’d both found it impossible. Too high on the emotions of the revelations of the very early morning.

He’d suggested that they go flying together. It seemed the logical thing to do, from one pilot to another, the easiest way to learn each other. And she’d agreed in an instant.

Now all Biggs has to do is find her the appropriate gear, and borrow an X-Wing for her, and find one for him, too. Even though the morning is early, there are still people about the hangar. A couple of techs working on one of the X-Wings that was damaged in the battle of Starkiller Base. And Temmin ‘Snap’ Wexley, up and about and overseeing everything.

“Hey Snap,” Biggs says, approaching him. They’re old acquaintances, though it’s Wedge who really knows Snap, not him. But Snap, like Biggs, has been with the Resistance from the start. “Rey and I were hoping to take a couple of X-Wings up, do a quick flight, if it doesn’t interfere with your plans.”

“It doesn’t,” Snap replies. “And if it did, you could probably countermand those orders, Admiral.” He gives Rey an appraising once over. “You’ll need flight gear though. Biggs, your spares are in the ready room. Rey – go and see Pava, over there, she’ll scrounge something up for you.”

Snap points out Jessika Pava, deep in the engines of an X-Wing, methodically taking things apart. It’s behaviour that Biggs is familiar with. Luke had done it a lot, after battles, his fingers sorting through machinery while his head attempted to process the battle, and the loss. He leaves Rey to it, and goes to fetch his own flight suit. He slips into it with the ease of long remembrance, then grabs his helmet and heads back out to the hangar. Snap already has two X-Wings prepped and ready to go.

Rey is standing underneath one of them, with Jess Pava buckling a helmet onto her head and quietly explaining the features of her flightsuit. Not that they’ll need most of them. This flight is probably only going to be low-orbit. Nothing more, not this time.

“You ready?” Biggs asks Rey. She gives a quick nod in response, and Biggs jumps up into the cockpit. The controls are still intimately familiar to him. He starts the take-off procedure, and takes a deep breath in as the ship begins to rise.

He flies straight out and up, letting Rey follow him. The X-Wing is built to operate in atmosphere as well as in the vacuum of Space, so it handles the ascent with ease.

“Oh,” he hears Rey say over the comms. “This is… something else.” Her voice is light, and full of wonder.

Biggs twirls his ship over, doing a spin around her X-Wing that could be considered a little showy.

“It handles a little differently to the Falcon, I think,” Biggs replies.

“I’d never flown anything before the Falcon. Not outside a simulator,” Rey replies. She brings the nose of her X-Wing up, then all the way over for a flip, then dives down into a series of rolls.

It’s pretty impressive stuff for a rookie.

“This is a hell of a lot smoother,” she says.

“Well,” Biggs says. “I’ve got a lot of love for the Falcon; it’s saved my life more times than I can count. Still doesn’t mean it isn’t a hunk of junk that has no right to be space worthy.”

“That’s what I said,” Rey replies, dipping into dazzling corkscrew spins. Biggs just follows her with a smile on his face.

They dance through the sky, father and daughter, for almost an hour before Biggs suggests that they land. Rey accepts quickly, with the promise that they can go up again soon.

“That was incredible!” Rey says, leaping down from the X-Wing cockpit. There’s a brilliant smile on her face, making her look as young as she actually is, and Biggs can’t help but grin in response.

“There’s nothing quite like flying,” Biggs says. He’s glad they have this in common. He’d always hoped, when she was younger, that she’d grow up to love flying. But she’d been taken from them too young for him to ever really know.

“Admiral!”

Biggs’ head turns sharply at the sound of Poe’s voice calling his title. The man is walking across the hangar with some speed, but stops at the sight of Rey and Biggs in flight gear. “That’s where you got to,” Poe says, in Rey’s direction. “I’ve been wondering. You went flying together?”

His eyes flick between Rey and Biggs, confused and aware that he’s missed something since last night.

“It was incredible, Poe,” Rey starts, but then trails off. Poe came in here to say something, and Biggs’ gaze is fixed on him.

“What’s going on, Poe?” Biggs asks.

With a nervous hand to the back of his neck, Poe says: “It’s Wedge. He’s in atmo, about ten minutes out.”

Biggs face furrows, all scrunched up, and he blinks twice. “What?”

“We just got the comm message. It’s definitely him, and his ship, the clearances all check out,” Poe says. “We’ve given him instructions to land on the front Tarmac next to the Falcon, if you want to go wait for him.”

Biggs stands stock still in shock. Wedge, here? He’d not expected that. How is he going to tell Wedge about Rey? Introduce them? He’d known it was going to have to happen, but he’d thought he’d have enough time to work out what he was going to say.

And now… now, Biggs has to face his husband, and admit that he’s been – he doesn’t want to call it lying, but he has made a deliberate decision to obscure the truth from Wedge. For Wedge’s own good, true, but he still did it. And that’s going to hurt Wedge. There’s no way around that.

That’s not even starting on Rey. How does Biggs even begin to explain that their daughter is alive? And will that news actually do Wedge any good? Biggs is happy to have her back, but her absence hadn’t affected him like it had Wedge.

Then there’s all the reasons why Biggs hasn’t told Wedge any of this. Is he stable enough to handle it all? Biggs can only hope so. He clenches his fists, nails digging into the palms of his hands. Kriff, Biggs isn’t certain that he’s ready to handle all this.

A small hand tugs at the sleeve of Biggs’ flightsuit. “Dad?” Rey asks, looking up at him with wide eyes of concern.

Biggs shakes the worry from his frame. Wedge is here. Which is what he wanted, so he’ll have to deal with it. “Come on, let's go and see him.” And Biggs heads out the hangar, onto the Tarmac, standing clear enough of the Falcon for Wedge to land.

(Rey follows him, and Poe follows her, darting to catch up, and asking “Dad?” in the most incredulous tone. Rey waves him off, saying that she’ll explain later.)

Placing a hand over his forehead to shield his eyes from the sun, Biggs looks up. He can make out the little Corellian swoop that Wedge flies these days, still high in the sky but coming in to land fast. The minutes that it takes to come down feel like some of the longest in Biggs’ life, and a small but sizeable crowd has gathered.

“Let me talk to him first,” Biggs tells Rey. “There's a lot to tell him. It’s going to be a bit of a shock. I know you want to meet him, but trust me.”

Rey nods, and takes a step backward, just as Wedge’s ship comes in to land. Biggs steps forward in anticipation. He gives the crowd a quick glance over, looking for Leia. She’s nowhere to be seen. This one is Biggs’ to handle.

The ship’s gangway opens and Wedge steps out.

He looks a little shaky. His eyes are wide. His grey hair is slightly unkempt, and he’s thrown a flight jacket round his shoulders without any real care. Wherever he’s come from, he left in a hurry.

(Biggs wonders what did prompted his arrival. He’s here too quickly to have received Biggs or Leia’s messages and have acted on them. It must have been something else.)

“Biggs,” Wedge says, catching sight of his husband. He says it with such relief in his voice that Biggs can’t help but step forward and pull Wedge into his arms. His frame is solid and reassuring and Biggs threads his fingers through Wedge’s hair, turning Wedge’s head into his neck.

“Wedge,” Biggs says, the name muffled into Wedge’s hair. “Force, it’s good to see you.”

“You too,” Wedge says. His hands clutch the front of Biggs’ flightsuit, and he doesn’t let go, even when he moves his head back to look at Biggs. “Have you been flying?” he asks, tightening his grip. “Hell, please don’t say you were flying against the Starkiller, love. Haven’t we done enough of that?”

“I wasn’t, don’t worry.” Wedge ducks his head in relief and Biggs presses a kiss to his forehead. “What about you? When you didn’t respond to my messages… Wedge, I was so worried you’d got caught up in it.”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Wedge says. “I got a message from Han, a couple of days ago, telling me to come to the Resistance, that there was someone I had to meet. He sounded pretty urgent about the whole thing. Where is he?”

Biggs attempts not to let the horror leech into his face, as he scrambles to sort the timeline out. Leia had told him that it had been Han who’d come to her with suspicions. Was it possible he’d messaged Wedge? Han and Wedge have always been close, especially after the massacre, where they’d grieved their own way. Biggs and Leia had thrown themselves into fighting. Han and Wedge had tumbled around the Galaxy looking for solace.

“Wedge,” Biggs says, forcing the words out. “Han’s dead.”

“No,” is Wedge’s immediate response. His face is the very picture of denial.

“He died on Starkiller Base,” Biggs says. “I’m sorry, Wedge. I know how close you were.”

Wedge shakes his head, but his features are already showing the dim signs of realisation. He shakes, and ducks his head into Biggs’ shoulder, and Biggs feels tears, hot and wet, against his shoulder. He just holds Wedge and rubs reassuring circles into the gap between Wedge’s shoulder blades.

“Do you…” Wedge’s words come in gasps. His breathing is shallow and he seems to be having difficulty drawing in enough air. “Do you know who he wanted me to meet?”

Biggs doesn’t, but he has a very good suspicion.

“When Han picked up the Falcon, it was piloted by a girl,” Biggs said. “She’d found the Falcon on Jakku and had picked up a former-Stormtrooper and a droid and—” Biggs cuts himself off. None of this is relevant. Not now. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later.” He takes a very deep breath, and looks down at Wedge. “It’s Rey. She’s alive.”

Wedge looks like he’s just had his breath stolen, whisked out of his body. Biggs clutches at him, catching him as he stumbles. “No,” Wedge says. “She’s dead. That’s what you and Leia have been telling me all these years. My little girl is dead.”

“We were wrong,” Biggs admits, a lump in his throat. He’s close to tears himself.

He turns Wedge round, towards the gathered crowd, and points out Rey. She’s at the front of the crowd, waiting, mouth in a tight line. She’s wringing her hands together in front of her, like she doesn’t know what to do with them.

Poe gives her a little shove forward, pushing her out from the crowd.

The resemblance to their little girl is clear. Clearer now than it was when Biggs first saw her in the mess. He knows that there is no mistaking who she is. Certainly not by Wedge, who knew her better than anyone else in the Galaxy.

“Rey,” Wedge gasps, his mouth falling open in wonder. He walks towards her, his steps slow and hesitant. “Force…”

“Papa,” Rey says, tears welling in her eyes, and she runs towards him and throws herself into his arms. Wedge catches her and lifts her off her feet and Biggs could cry at the sight. There are tears pricking at the corner of his eyes, even as he tries to hold them back. He dabs at the edges of his eyes with the heel of his palm.

Wedge shows no attempts at holding his tears back. He’s crying as he clings as tightly to Rey as Biggs has ever seen him cling to anything. “Rey,” he says, voice broken and desperate and still in complete disbelief. He’s stroking her hair, the touch so tender, like he can’t believe she’s real.

“Papa,” Rey replies, her hands clutching at the back of his jacket. “Papa.” Her words are breathless.

Wedge draws back, bringing his hands up to cup Rey’s face. Even knowing Wedge as well as Biggs does, it’s difficult to work out exactly what he’s feeling. His face is a conflicting mess of emotions. There’s anguish, and sadness for all those lost years, but delight too. An ecstasy at having her back. “Force,” he says, looking at her. “You’re so grown up. So beautiful. Oh, Rey…” His smile is beyond joyful.

“It’s so good to see you, Papa,” Rey says, smiling back at him.

Wedge is welling up again, on the edge of tears, so Biggs steps forward and draws both him and Rey into his arms. They both wrap themselves around him, Wedge almost collapsing into Biggs’ side. But Biggs is there to catch him, and now… so is Rey.

Their daughter. Here. With them.

Overcome with emotion, Biggs presses a kiss to the tops of both their heads. He feels a tear slip, hot and wet, down his cheek, but he doesn’t care. He never thought he’d see this day.

It’s not all of his family back together – Luke is conspicuous for his absence – but for now, it’s enough.

.

**Fourteen Years Ago:**

Biggs walked through the ruins that just weeks ago had been a thriving school.

Now it was all gone. It was still raining, fittingly enough, adding to the ever increasing swirl of mud underfoot. Biggs squelched through it, his hands in his pockets, thinking of everything that had been lost here.

There were a number of pockets of Republic Military troops, assisting with the search attempts and securing the buildings. Most of them were showing significant damage and would have to be demolished.

There was no real hope of survivors. They’d managed to pull a ten year old Twi’Lek girl from the wreckage a couple of days afterwards; she’d gone to ground the moment she’d heard the screams and, by some miracle, none of the Knights had found her. She was added to the survivor count, which stood at four. Her, Luke, and two visitors who’d barricaded themselves in the library and also been overlooked.

Everyone else is presumed dead.

Even Rey.

Biggs found himself walking towards the tent that housed the search co-ordination team, which had turned into a recovery operation. He was waved in with a quick nod and a sympathetic glance. A team, caked in mud and looking exhausted, was reporting back to the Colonel in charge of the entire operation. Biggs let them finish before approaching.

“Anything?” he asked. They all knew who he was looking for.

“Nothing,” Colonel Kress said. “And that’s the last search party in. We’ve cleared the entire site.”

“And you haven’t found her?” Biggs asked.

“There are five or so bodies unaccounted for, Admiral. Your daughter’s is by no means the only one.” Kress turned to look at a map, with the body finds marked on it in small red dots. “There’s the river, which will be dredged, but if they were swept out – we won’t find them. And the fires burned hot. Possibly hot enough for a five year olds bones to be turned to ash. I’m sorry,” she added, realising the callousness of her words. “But it’s true. The lack of a body is no reason to think she escaped. A five year old child escaping this? Unlikely.”

Biggs nodded.

Privately, he’d known this for days. Luke had kept his mouth closed on the subject, refusing to say anything beyond the fact that Rey was gone. Leia couldn’t find her in the Force. Rey was lost to them, forever.

Now, he would have to take that news to Wedge, along with the devastating fact that he had no body to bury.

He made his way over to their house. Miraculously, it was still standing – and was one of the few buildings likely to be salvageable. Not that Biggs had much interest in continuing to live there. He let himself in – the door had been open for members of the search party to come and go as they pleased.

Tycho Celchu was standing in the living room, sorting through some of the detritus. The students’ things had been brought here, and there was hope of sorting through them to be able to give something back to the families and parents. Biggs wasn’t involved in it.

“Where is he?” Biggs asked.

“In her room,” Tycho replied. He knew exactly who Biggs was asking after. Biggs gave him a silent nod – Tycho turned up a day after the massacre, on the heels of Wedge and Leia and Han, and hadn’t left Wedge’s side much since. Biggs appreciated the support.

Biggs made his way down the hallway. He paused in Rey’s doorway. Wedge was indeed there, sitting, leaning against her bed. He was crying, and had been for some time, if the tear tracks and his flushed cheeks and red eyes were anything to go by.

Biggs didn’t think Wedge had stopped crying since the news was broken to them.

Clutched between Wedge’s hands was Kettch, Rey’s stuffed Ewok toy, and he was clinging to it for dear life, like it might provide salvation.

Silently, Biggs crossed the room and sat down next to Wedge. Close enough to touch, but he didn’t instigate anything. Just sat and thought about what he was going to say while the sound of Wedge’s unsteady breathing filled the room.

“Have they found her?” Wedge eventually asked, turning Kettch over in his hands.

“No,” Biggs answered. He tried to keep his voice as level as possible as he continued, Wedge’s question having made it possible to talk. “They’ve finished the grid search, so they’re not hopeful of finding the body either.”

“If there’s no body, she might be out there,” Wedge said, and Biggs could feel his heart breaking as a note of hope entered Wedge’s voice. “She might have escaped all this, and be out there, waiting for us to find her—”

“Wedge—” Biggs took Wedge’s hand, closing his hand round it. He turned Wedge’s face towards him, and made Wedge look him in the eye. “She’s dead. She’s dead and we lost her and it’s awful—” Biggs voice caught as he said the words. “It’s the most horrendous thing and we don’t even have a body to bury, but she is dead and there is nothing we can do about it.”

His eyes watered as he spoke the words. They ripped a hole in his chest, where Rey had been a presence of warmth and light these past years, and the world felt darker as he said them.

But they could not linger in hope that she might be alive. It would paralyse them.

“Biggs—”

Wedge’s voice broke and he gave a choked sob, attempting to contain all his emotions. But Biggs tugged him in, put an arm around his shoulders and Wedge fell in sobs against Biggs’ shoulder.

It was amazing that he still had any tears left to cry.

Biggs held him, gently, rubbing soft circles into Wedge’s shoulder in what he hoped were calming motions, and waited for Wedge to still. When he did so, his breathing still unsteady but no longer ragged, Biggs pulled back and wiped the tears from Wedge’s face. He pushed the drops away with his thumb, and said: “Come on, Wedge. Let's go and find Luke.”

Wedge wasn’t the steadiest on his feet, so Biggs wrapped an arm around his waist, keeping him close as they navigated their way out of what was their home. Tycho, now in the kitchen, just gave them a quiet nod as Biggs guided Wedge out.

Biggs wasn’t quite sure where Luke had got to, but he couldn’t have gone far. Luke was as damaged by the entire affair as Wedge was, possibly more – but Biggs had focused his efforts on the search, and on Wedge. Not because Luke didn’t need help, but because Biggs knew that there was nothing he could do to solve Luke’s problems.

Biggs caught sight of Leia and Han, standing on the edge of the campus. He didn’t know how they were taking it all. Badly, he suspected. But, if anyone knew where Luke had gotten to, it would be his twin. So he and Wedge made their way over.

“Leia,” Biggs said. “Have you seen Luke?”

Leia’s face went even paler. Biggs noticed that there was a creased piece of flimsiplast in her hand, and that she was worrying at the corner of it. She shared a nervous glance with Han, and Han raised an eyebrow. Leia took a deep breath.

“Luke’s gone,” she said.

After everything – this was the last straw. Biggs felt everything flood out of him, leaving him spineless and speechless. Leia’s words… they were ridiculous. Luke couldn’t be gone. They’d lost so much already. They couldn’t afford to lose anything else.

Wedge’s face furrowed in confusion, and he voiced the words that Biggs couldn’t force out his throat. “What do you mean, gone?”

Leia’s face was apologetic, but her jaw was clenched; this was the end of it for her, too. “He’s vanished.” Biggs didn’t want to believe it, but there was something in Leia’s tone. He could only conclude that she was telling the truth, and that hurt. Luke wouldn’t have done such a thing. The Luke Biggs knew wouldn’t have left them.

But apparently, he had… and Biggs was going to have to reconcile himself to this reality.

“He left this for you – I opened it, I’m sorry, but I needed to know what in kriffing hells he was thinking—” She handed Wedge the scrap of flimsiplast, that Biggs could now see was marked with scratches of Luke’s handwriting. Wedge unfolded it and just stared at it, not taking anything in. “He’s just walked off and gone and left us to fucking deal with this mess—”

The anger was thrumming through her voice and her small frame, and Han placed a hand on her shoulder. “None of us know what he was thinking. I don’t think we’ll ever know. But he’s gone,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

Wedge handed the flimsiplast to Biggs. His fingers were shaking as he did so.

_I can_ _’t do this anymore_ it said. _I love you both_ was written underneath it, under dozens of words that were crossed out to the point of being illegible. _Please don_ _’t look for me. Look out for each other instead._

If there was more, Biggs wasn’t interested in reading it. He crumpled the note up in his fist. “I have loved that man since before I knew what love was,” he said, looking around at three faces that wore similar expressions of strife. “And I could have gotten him through this. If he’d have just trusted me.” He shook his head, still in disbelief. “Luke, you idiot. Come back here.” He muttered the words and realised the futility of them at the same time.

He dropped to the ground, his legs completely buckling beneath him. Wedge almost went too, but Han was prepared and managed to catch Wedge, pulling him back up and into a rough embrace. Biggs didn’t know anything more after that. Nothing was real anymore. His entire body thrummed with an unreal energy, and despite him being on solid ground, it was like he was floating in the vacuum of space.

“Come back,” he said, the words escaping his throat but he could barely hear them, his ears ringing with the thunder of grief. “Luke. Come back.” A hot splash of water dropped onto his hands, and he realised his cheeks were wet with streaming tears.

Leia, taking up the mantle of General – a sister or a mother no longer – sat beside him. She placed an arm around his shoulders, in a gesture of affection that was all she could bring herself to give.

There were no words; there were no more words that could be said between them, to make any of this better. So they don’t say them.

It took three days for Biggs to pick himself up again. In that time, he lost Wedge to grief and the lure of a Galaxy with Luke out there somewhere. “I’ll be back,” Wedge had promised, as he’d left on a military shuttle. Biggs believed him, but it didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt. But Wedge needed to mourn in his own way, and Biggs had to let him do it.

He went back to the Navy. For five weeks he did nothing but work, afraid that if he stopped for even a moment he’d drown under the weight of his feelings. And then Leia Organa appeared in his office, with a proposition.

Out of all that tragedy, they formed a Resistance. One good thing created, for all the things that they lost.

.

**Now:**

Wedge, Biggs and Rey retreat to Biggs’ quarters for privacy, and settle on the bed, Rey sandwiched between Biggs and Wedge. Wedge has barely let go of her since he saw her, likely terrified that if he does she’ll turn out to be just a phantom, not a real living, breathing girl.

He’s full of questions for her, wanting to know everything he can about her and the life she led on Jakku. Biggs lets him ask, and Rey seems happy to share, and has plenty of questions of her own, besides.

Biggs drifts comfortably to the sound of their chattering voices, relieved that they’re together and happy. Wedge is distracted enough by Rey that he hasn’t enquired further about what happened to Han. It buys Biggs a little time. Time to contemplate exactly how he’s going to tell Wedge that they’d gone looking for Luke.

“Wait,” Wedge says, and it’s directed across at Biggs as well. “Why was Dameron even on Jakku to start with?”

Rey chirps up, unaware of the impact her words will have. “They were looking for the map to Luke. They found it, or part of it anyway.” She looks across to Biggs. “You’ve just got to put it together, right? Then we can go find him.”

It’s difficult to describe the emotions that flit across Wedge’s face. There’s concern in there, and a twinge of despair, and something Biggs wants to believe is hope. The most prominent one is betrayal. “You’ve been looking for Luke?” he asks. “For how long?”

Time to come clean. “Months,” Biggs admits. “Leia finally found a lead, and we’ve been following it ever since. Rey’s right though; we’ve yet to make head-or-tails of what he left.” Wedge still looks uncertain, and he’s pulling away. Biggs leans over and grabs the hand that is circled round Rey’s back, lacing his fingers together with Wedge’s. He doesn’t want this to turn into a fight, not in front of Rey. “I wanted to tell you,” he says. “I just didn’t want to give you hope if it turned out we couldn’t find anything.”

Rey turns to Wedge, and seems to sense the argument brewing as well. “It seems like a barrel of coincidences now. Running into BB-8 and Finn, and then stealing the Falcon. Getting picked up by Han. Getting the lightsaber. And then to find out I’ve always been in the middle of it. I’m just really glad to be back with you.”

She places a hand on Wedge’s knee, and looks up at him. He smiles down at her, and is about to say something.

Then there’s a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Biggs calls. He knows that no one would interrupt them unless it was important.

The door opens to reveal Poe Dameron, panting. “It’s R2,” he says, without any preamble. “He’s woken up.”

Biggs is off the bed in an instant. It’s been his pet project, with a little support from Jessika Pava, to attempt to get R2-D2 back up and running, but they’ve been unsuccessful. “How?” he asks.

“BB-8,” Poe says, in a rush. “Doing their usual approach and sad little beep routine, you know how it is, when suddenly there was power. Admiral, I think R2 has the other half of the map.”

That sets Biggs off, following Poe through corridors back to the central command centre. Wedge and Rey are not far behind them both, Wedge’s arm tucked in Rey’s.

They enter the Command Centre and Artoo is there, next to Leia, projecting a Star Map. BB-8 whizzes over to Poe, beeping a long string of binary, and Poe moves to retrieve something from the central console. It’s the piece of the map they found. He sets it in BB-8, and the small, circular droid rolls itself up alongside R2, projecting the image so it fits perfectly.

There’s a collective gasp.

Admiral Statura starts walking the map, as does Major Ematt, tracing out the route and the recognisable planets. Leia stands stoic. Her face is the picture of calm, but there’s conflict in her eyes. Despite this being the culmination of so much that she’s working so hard for, Biggs knows that it has come at an incredible cost to her.

He turns his attention to Wedge, who is being propped up by Rey. His face is the very picture of disbelief, now. Biggs moves so that he’s stood beside Wedge, and wraps an arm around his husband’s shoulders.

“Am I dreaming?” Wedge whispers. “With Rey, and now Luke… Biggs, it’s beyond my wildest dreams. It can’t be real.”

“It is,” Biggs reassures him. “It's real, Wedge. We got our daughter back, and we’re going to get our husband back.” He feels himself choking up as he says the words.

Wedge finally lets go of Rey, to wrap his arms conclusively around Biggs, laying his head on Biggs’ shoulder. Rey takes her new freedom and does a lap of the room, falling easily into the jubilation that’s going on, the collective mass of hugs.

Biggs and Wedge only have eyes for each other, and the map.

Eventually, Leia makes her way over to them. “Wedge,” she says.

“Leia,” he says, turning to her. “I heard about Han. I’m so sorry.” He leans down to catch her in an embrace, and she folds herself against him for a moment, taking the comfort he offers.

“It’s done now,” Leia says, stepping back. “We’ve found Luke. And you two got Rey back.” There isn’t a trace of bitterness in her voice. Biggs wonders if, in her place – if Ben and Han had come back, and he was facing the idea that Rey was lost forever and Wedge was dead – he’d be able to summon even half the courtesy that she has. He is getting everything he wanted; Leia is now bereft of almost everyone she has ever loved.

Rey returns, then, with Poe Dameron trailing hesitantly behind her. Biggs wonders what quite the relationship there is – she hasn’t said anything, but it’s clear they’re already close. And, well, Dameron’s a good kid, Biggs thinks. She could be in worse hands. “Leia,” she says, fresh and excited and with her entire face lit up. “Auntie?” she questions, but then moves on. “We found him,” she says, that excitement still in her face. “We found Luke. Pa. We found him.”

“Yes,” Leia says, wry and amused. “And I think you should be the one to go and collect him.”

“Me?” Rey looks startled, and astonished, as if she hadn’t picked up Luke’s lightsaber and fought a Sith and shouldered the mantle of Luke’s legacy already. “He’s your brother.” She raises her shoulders in a slight shrug, looking unconvinced by the entire concept.

“And he’s your father,” Leia replies. “And you need a teacher. If that’s not enough to make Luke return, I don’t know what will be.”

Biggs agrees with her. There’s a part of him that wants to believe that he and Wedge could be enough, but they weren’t enough to make him stay in the first place.

Rey’s eyes close as she mulls it over. Maybe she’s thinking the same thing as Leia and Biggs. She is the only new variable in this situation. She has the potential to change everything. “Yes,” she says, after a long moment. “I’ll go. If you think I’m the person to do it.” Then she turns to Biggs, and Wedge. “What about you? Will you come with me?”

Biggs is torn. He has duties with the Resistance, that he can’t just abandon, but he also doesn’t want to leave Rey, or Wedge. And he can’t see Wedge letting Rey go on her own so soon. If Wedge had his way, he’d never let Rey out of his sight again.

Which is why Wedge’s answer surprises Biggs. “No,” he says. “This is something for you to do, on your own. And I know you’ll bring him back to us. I know that.” His eyes are watering, as he takes Rey’s hand. “I have faith in you, Rey. So much.”

She looks buoyed by Wedge’s words.

“You can take the Falcon,” Leia says. “And I think you’ll find you’ll have the company you need in Chewie – I suspect he’ll go with you.” She draws Rey away into conversation.

Meanwhile Biggs pulls Wedge into one of the small rooms off the command centre, seeking a modicum of privacy.

“You can go with her,” he says, instantly. “Go with her, Wedge. I don’t mind. I know what she means to you.”

“That would mean leaving you behind.” Wedge’s words are unexpected. “Wouldn’t it? You wouldn’t be able to come with us. You have duties here, to the Resistance.”

“Well, yes.” Biggs shrugs. He’s long accepted that he was never going to be the one to fetch Luke. It’s not news to him. “And those duties don’t affect you. You’re still free to go with her. You should go, Wedge. I know you don’t want to let her out your sight.”

Wedge sighs. “I don’t. You’re right. That much is true.” He turns, looking away from Biggs, his expression wistful and contemplative. He walks over to the far wall, and rests his hands against the table. “I don’t want to leave you either.” His tone is strangely pensive, considering they’ve spent so much of the last fourteen years apart. Or perhaps it’s because of that. “I don’t want to let her go, and I don’t want to leave you, and I know I’m going to have to do one of those things.”

“Wedge—”

Wedge turns around, the yearning clear on his face.

“If you really wanted it, I could speak to Leia. I’m sure there’s some way we could rearrange things so that I could go with you both—”

“No.” Wedge’s tone is gentle, and there’s a hint of a smile on his face as he ducks his head. “It’s kind of you to offer, though. But I meant what I said to Rey. I think this is a journey she has to make on her own. Without us – much as that pains me. And it does. But she’s going to bring Luke back to us, and we’re going to greet him. Together. Both of us.” His voice is a little bashful as he continues. “Force, I know over the years I’ve been a bit useless, but I do remember our wedding vows. I promised that I’d stand besides you, always. And I’ve been kriffing awful at sticking to it. But, maybe, now is the time to do it. I won’t go and see Luke without you. When he comes back, he’s coming back to both of us.”

Biggs steps towards Wedge, his hands in his pockets. “I hadn’t even been thinking about Luke,” he says with a shrug. “Just Rey.”

“You heard Leia. She won’t be going on her own. And even if she was…” Wedge chokes on the words. “Well, I think she’s proved she can handle herself. You and I… we’ve spent so much time missing each other. I’m not sure I want to leave you again. So I—” He nods his head, convincing himself of his words as he says them. His eyes are slightly damp, Biggs notices. “I’m going to stay with you. Because I love you and I’m sick of walking away from you and pretending that everything’s okay, Biggs.”

His expression is full of a soft, enduring affection, the likes of which Biggs hasn’t seen for many years. But in that moment, he realises it’s never gone away – Wedge has just obscured it, unwilling to risk any further damage to his poor, mangled heart.

With one stride, Biggs closes the distance between Wedge and himself. He tips Wedge’s head back and kisses him fiercely, cupping the back of Wedge’s head and lacing his fingers through Wedge’s hair.

Kissing Wedge has always been comfortable; easy, even. With Luke – well, first it had meant more, initially, the realisation of years of Biggs’ fantasies, and then there was the sensation of power and heat and light that quickly overwhelmed the senses. Kissing Luke was embracing the storm; kissing Wedge was the calm after it. Both of them had their own appeal.

For now, Biggs focuses just on the softness of Wedge’s mouth. “I love you too,” he says, as Wedge breaks to gasp for air. “Force, I love you so much,” he says on an exhale, pushing Wedge back against the table. Wedge is pliant under Biggs hands, and he fumbles with the catches of Biggs’ flightsuit, trying to draw him even closer.

Biggs laps up every moment of the attention. He kisses Wedge again, as well as pushing his thigh between Wedge’s legs, eliciting a gasp from the other man that goes straight to Biggs’ core. “I haven’t said it enough and I should have, Wedge: I love you.”

“I always knew,” Wedge replies, words spoken in between kisses along Biggs’ jawline. Wedge’s stubble burns as it brushes along Biggs’, and Biggs leans into the sensation. “I knew, love. I never said it enough either. I love you.” Wedge drops his head onto Biggs’ shoulder, and pauses for a moment. His grip is still tight. “I want to stay with you. If you’ll have me.”

“Of course I will,” Biggs replies, turning his head to nuzzle Wedge’s hair. He presses a kiss into grey strands of hair. “I love you.” He relishes the words in his mouth; they’ve gone so long unsaid, that he wants to make up for every time he meant to say them and didn’t. “You’re welcome to stay. I want you by my side. I—” Biggs hesitates, but Wedge was brave enough to say it, so he should as well. “I hated walking away from you too. Even if I had my reasons. I still hated doing it.”

“Oh, Biggs.” Wedge’s lips find his again, pressing softly; short, delicate kisses that still steal Biggs’ breath and make him dizzy with affection. “We’re together now,” he whispers. “And we have our daughter back. We have Rey back.” His voice takes on a note of giddiness, still incredulous about the entire matter.

“That we do,” Biggs agrees. “And she’s going to bring Luke back to us as well, and we’ll—” He chokes, because he still can’t believe that this is the truth. “We’ll have our whole family back together, Wedge.”

Wedge smiles with easy delight. “Come on,” he says, tugging at one of Biggs’ hands. “Let’s go and help our daughter bring our husband home.”

.

**Thirty Four Years ago:**

Biggs smoothed down the sheets that lay over Luke, and ran his hand across a feverish forehead. Luke’s eyes were screwed shut; he was asleep, but it wasn’t a peaceful rest.

“Is he alright?”

Biggs turned at the sound of the familiar voice, to find Wedge Antilles standing at the door, almost nervous, and very uncertain.

Biggs asked the same thing himself, when he’d rushed to the med-bay upon hearing that Solo had brought Luke back collapsed. Apparently, Solo had walked off the Falcon with Luke in his arms and demanded a medic.

“Exhaustion, and a mild case of Spacer’s Flu,” Biggs said, in reply. “He should be alright after a couple of days, just needs some rest.”

“Oh. Good.” The relief on Wedge’s face was palpable. “When they said he was in the med-bay… I—”

Wedge didn’t finish his sentence, but he didn’t have to. Biggs knew exactly what had run through Wedge’s head; the same fears that had rushed through his, before he’d ascertained that Luke was alright with his own two eyes.

The difference was, Luke was Biggs’ boyfriend and he had every right to be concerned about Luke that way, while Wedge… didn’t.

Which went some way to explaining why Wedge was still hanging about in the doorway, not stepping in. He was aware of the fact that he was an intruder, that he wasn’t supposed to be here.

And yet Biggs found that he didn’t mind Wedge’s presence. Not nearly as much as he should. “Come in,” he said, with a wave of his hand, gesturing at the single solitary chair that was positioned by Luke’s bedside. “You look almost as bad as he does, sit down.”

Wedge furrowed his eyebrows in concern, but acquiesced.

“Budge over,” Biggs then said, when Wedge had sat down. The chair was certainly not built for two grown men, and it required a reasonable amount of concentration to keep them both on it, as well as a degree of closeness they didn’t commonly keep.

(Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Before Luke had shown up on Yavin, Biggs had regularly sat this close to Wedge. He’d liked the slightly cock-sure, young, Corellian pilot who’d flown circles around Biggs the same way Luke had. And given that Biggs had been almost certain that he’d never see Luke again… well, he might have flirted a little. And Wedge had flirted back.

All that had stopped with Luke’s arrival. Biggs hadn’t even said anything to Wedge; the man had understood the way Biggs had looked at Luke and simply stepped back and let them get on with it.

Biggs was happy with Luke – he’d loved Luke in some way or another since they were kids – but he sometimes wondered what it would have been like to kiss Wedge, to have taken him to bed and make him high and giddy and pleading for pleasure, what would have happened if things had moved a little quicker and gone a little further before Luke had turned up.

Mostly, Biggs was glad to have not had that complication. But there was a part of him that wanted it.)

Biggs looked at Wedge, who was studying Luke, attempting to commit the long lashes that fanned out over Luke’s cheeks and the curve of his mouth to memory. And looking guilty while he did it, sat flush with Luke’s boyfriend beside him.

Maybe Wedge’s concern could be dismissed as that for a friend and squadron mate, but it ran deeper than that. Biggs was almost certain that Wedge fancied Luke – so did half the base, in all honesty – and probably had done since a joyful Luke, high on the emotional thrill of the Death Star run, had dragging a grieving, lost Wedge out of his ship and into the celebration. And yet… Biggs wasn’t jealous.

Wedge wasn’t a threat. Not because there was no chance of Luke loving him, but… Biggs knew, somehow, that Wedge would never let the relationship between Biggs and Luke fail because of his feelings.

Biggs reached over and grasped Luke’s hand, bringing it over so it fell off the side of the bed and into Biggs’ lap. And then he took Wedge’s hand, and wrapped it around Luke’s, and placed his own back on top of it.

“Biggs—” Wedge said, with a sharp turn of the head and wide eyes. “What are you doing?”

“You’re as worried about him as I am,” Biggs said. “It’s okay if you stay.”

Wedge might be befuddled, but he was grateful, and stayed.

Five weeks later, Luke completely better and cleared for combat again, all three of them ended up in the middle of the same dogfight.

Luke and Biggs were still attached to Red Squadron, but Wedge – well, he went wherever he was told, a different assignment every couple of weeks. By Alliance standards, he was an old hand. But he’d pulled the same assignment as Luke and Biggs this time and was in an X-Wing alongside them, attempting to take down an Imperial Star Destroyer.

Only, in typical fashion, it was going badly. Their briefing hadn’t included the Lancer-class frigate, which was doing serious damage to any snubfighter that got close, and had underestimated the number of TIEs. Biggs was privately expecting the retreat call from command any minute; until then, he focused on weaving in and out of the TIE fighters and following Naara’s instructions.

“Red Nine, what the hell are you doing?” Naara called, himself making a sharp about-turn and firing off a few laser shots. None of them make their target.

“Leader, someone’s got to do something about that frigate. Three-flight, follow me.”

Three-flight – who, for this mission, were Wedge, along with a recent Imperial Defector, a Y-Wing pilot Wedge seemed to know well, and Hobbie Klivian, the man who had recruited Biggs to the Alliance – all headed towards the Lancer-class frigate.

“Shit,” Biggs muttered. He had to fight the urge to follow Wedge, and trust that the man knew what he was doing. Naara was busy yelling at him for stupidity, and Biggs switched to the Two-flight comm channel, where Luke was busy letting out a whoop of celebration. “Red Five, how about we make sure none of these TIEs escape and give Three-flight any trouble?”

“On it, Six,” Luke replied. “I’m your wing.” And so Luke and Biggs flew in easy synchronicity, herding TIE fighters and picking them off one by one. Biggs kept one eye on the frigate, intrigued as to what Wedge was going to do. As he moved in, Biggs switched his comm back to the Squadron frequency.

“—this is the most ridiculous, Nine, fall back, this is unnecessary and fool-hardy,” Naara said.

“Disagreeing on both counts, Leader,” Wedge replied.

Biggs wasn’t quite sure what happened next. Wedge’s transponder merged with that of the Lancer-class frigate, and then they both disappeared. Out of the corner of Biggs’ eye, he saw a corresponding explosion.

“Shit, Wedge—”

“Anyone got a visual on Nine?” Biggs asked, his voice as desperate as Luke’s had been – Luke had even forgotten protocol and called him by name, which would get him reamed out later – as he felt the panic rise in him. Wedge’s transponder must have just gotten knocked out. He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t. Life wouldn’t be the same without Wedge; Biggs couldn’t imagine never seeing him and his floppy hair sitting in the hangar trying to fix something, cracking the darkest jokes. Wedge’s laugh echoed in Biggs’ head, and how is it that Biggs had never managed to tell him how much he loved Wedge’s laugh?

“Waiting for the smoke to clear, no sign of wreckage yet.” That was Eleven’s voice, the former Imperial – Celchu, Biggs thought, though he wasn’t certain. It was news in the right direction.

“He did it though,” Janson, the Y-Wing pilot, said. “The Lancer’s down, Leader.”

“Nine, come in,” Commander Naara ordered.

A green laser burst flew past the canopy of Biggs’ X-Wing, and he was reminded that there was still a firefight going to around him. He couldn’t afford to get distracted by Wedge right now. But the Imperials, with the destruction of the frigate that was keeping the snubfighters at bay, seemed to be now set on course for retreat. Biggs flipped his X-Wing, took down another TIE, and nodded across to Luke who’d done something very similar.

When Biggs looked back down at his screen, there was a blinking dot with the assignment ‘Red-Nine’ attached to it, and Biggs felt the relief flood through his body.

“This is Red Nine, I’m fine,” Wedge said. “Just had a small systems blackout. Everything’s back at green. And the job’s done, Leader. Exactly as planned.”

Thank goodness.

The Imperials were beating a full retreat now, and orders came in from Command for them not to bother chasing – best to save the fight for another day. So the X-wings were recalled back to the hangar, landing in neat formation according to flight.

By the time Biggs had descended his ladder, Commander Naara was already at Wedge’s X-Wing. When Wedge hopped down, Naara grabbed his arm and pulled him under the X-Wing and – well, Biggs couldn’t hear the conversation but he suspected it wasn’t good. That was confirmed two minutes later when Naara, scowling, marched towards the Command Centre.

Wedge emerged from under the S-Foils of his X-Wing, stroking his hand across the smoke-singed exterior of his X-Wing. His mouth was drawn into a firm line, and Biggs was struck by how beautiful he was.

He looked for Luke – his _boyfriend_ , Biggs reminded himself, this was no time to be thinking about how beautiful Wedge was even if Wedge had almost died out there and it had scared the living daylights out of Biggs. But Luke was already across the hangar and throwing himself at Wedge.

Luke, Biggs thought, had always been one for touch. He was easy with it, lousy with it almost, even when he’d been short of recipients. Wedge was another story. He wasn’t averse to it – Biggs knew that much from experience – but unaccustomed to it, especially the spontaneous displays of easy affection Luke was given to.

Biggs made his way over. Luke was talking, saying something – Biggs couldn’t quite catch what it is. As he stepped closer, he caught the words _I thought you were dead_ said in such a desperate, panicked tone – so close to how Biggs himself had felt.

Wedge stepped back – as far as he was able to, anyway, back into the fuselage of his X-Wing –and held Luke’s elbows, attempting to get a grip on the situation. He clearly had no idea what to do with the armful of Luke Skywalker he currently had. “I’m fine, Luke,” he said, in a voice that was steady enough to almost be convincing. “I had a plan. It worked.”

“But—”

Luke was doing that head tilt up at Wedge, his mouth slightly open, eyes a little wide; a look that was directed at Biggs for years and Biggs now knew to be a sign of unrealised attraction. And Wedge had pulled his head back as far as it would go, attempting to keep the boundary he’d established between Luke and himself. But there was want in his eyes too, his gaze flicking to Luke’s mouth and then away again.

Wedge wanted Luke. And Luke wanted Wedge. And Biggs wanted Wedge, too, and not so long ago Wedge had wanted Biggs as well… oh, kriff.

“Your transponder code disappeared and my heart fell out my chest, Wedge,” Biggs said, stepping up beside Luke, firmly trapping Wedge between his X-wing and them. “In that moment—” He gulped. He couldn’t get the words out, but Luke was looking at him and Biggs knew that Luke had felt exactly the same thing.

“Please don’t do anything that reckless ever again,” Luke said.

“You’re one to talk,” Wedge snarked, straight back at Luke. “Do you know how much it terrifies me, every time I hear about another one of your missions where you put yourself in danger time and time again because you have a lot of things, Skywalker, and self-preservation instincts aren’t one of them? I’ve never been so scared of anything in my life. That you might not come back some day, and I’d have to work out how I’m supposed to live my life without you? If it wasn’t for this one—”

Wedge flicked his eyes over to Biggs, and the moment he did so, seemed to realise the nature of every word that had just come flooding out his mouth. “Oh hells…” he said, voice very small. “I didn’t— Force, I—”

Whatever he was attempting to say got swallowed up by Biggs, who leant over, cupped Wedge’s face and kissed him. Hard, pressing Wedge back against the X-Wing’s fuselage.

Luke gave a quiet little gasp, which brought Biggs back to his senses. He pulled away from Wedge – whose eyes were wide with disbelief – and looked to Luke, whose mouth was open in shock.

For a man who could literally read emotions off of people with the Force, Luke was sometimes a little slow on the uptake. “Oh,” he said, voice a little higher than usual. “Oh.” And then he leant in and kissed Wedge too, and Wedge was no more prepared for this kiss than he had been for Biggs’. His hands clutched at the air in surprise, and Biggs caught one of them and held tight.

When Luke stepped back – a smile on his face that was immensely satisfied – Wedge was still confused. His eyes darted between Biggs and Luke, desperately trying to process what just happened. “Oh,” he said. “Both of you—?”

“We haven’t talked about it,” Biggs said, sparing a quick glance at Luke. “But I think—”

“We could make it work,” Luke said, boundlessly optimistic as always.

Wedge looked at them, and Biggs wondered if they’d completely broken the poor man. Then, slowly, he nodded. “Okay.” His eyes were wide and he looked anything but alright. “Really?” His brow was furrowed and his voice was breathless.

In response, Biggs folded Wedge into his arms, pulling Luke in as well. He was taller than both of them, and Wedge’s head came to rest on Biggs’ shoulder. He felt Wedge’s hand clutch at the back of his flightsuit, then Luke’s overlap it. “Really,” he said.

He wasn’t entirely sure how they were going to make this work, but if all three of them wanted it… well, then, all they could do was try.

“Yo Wes,” he heard Hobbie call, from across the hangar. “You owe me twenty credits. It is the three of them.”

“Damnit, Wedge!” Wes yelled back.

“Have they been betting on us?” Luke asked, curiously.

“Yes,” Wedge said, with a groan, ducking his face against Biggs’ shoulder. “Why am I not surprised.”

He gave a short, cautious laugh, then, and it vibrated down in Biggs’ chest, and Biggs knew that he really could hear that sound forever.

.

**Now:**

Biggs has spent more time than he cares to remember in medical bays checking in on kids with lightsaber wounds.

Usually, it was Luke who he’d be watching over. After that, there had been the odd student who’d been injured – never seriously, but they’d felt a duty of care to the kids that Luke had taken in. Now, it is Finn, the boy who’d stood up and fought to save a girl he’d only just met.

And because of that, Biggs got his daughter back. He owes Finn a debt already.

That, and when Rey had gone, four days ago, Biggs had promised her he’d look after him. Privately, he figured that Poe Dameron probably had that job covered, but he hadn’t said anything of the sort to Rey.

“Oh, here you are.” Wedge’s voice, coming from the doorway of the room, is fond and amused. “I’d been wondering where you were.”

Biggs looks over at his husband. He’s in his battered flight jacket, and has got a flightsuit tied around his waist. His hair is tousled in a way that Biggs knows from long years of experience is probably from a helmet. He’s been flying. And he looks good – better than he has in years, now there is some light back in his life and a spring back in his step.

He’s still not quite worked out what he’s doing – he’s not formally signed on with the Resistance, despite Leia’s best efforts – but he doesn’t seem to have any intentions of leaving.

Having Wedge by his side would be enough for Biggs. But even something as small as having Wedge train some of their pilots would be a coup for the Resistance, and Biggs hopes they can sway him into doing that, if nothing else.

Getting him up and about with the pilots is probably the first step towards that end.

“I wasn’t hiding or anything,” Biggs replies. He’s got some datawork to do and fancied a change of scenery, and, well, he does have a promise to his daughter to keep.

“Never said you were,” Wedge says. He walks over, stepping behind Biggs’ chair and leaning forward to wrap his arms loosely around Biggs. The touch is casual and comfortable and familiar and Biggs leans into it. It’s nice to touch Wedge without the sense of bereavement that has undercut their interactions for years. This time, neither of them have places to be. It’s just them.

Wedge looks at Finn, casting his gaze along the man lying still in the bed. “How is he?” Wedge asks.

“Doing better than he was,” Biggs replies. “Kalonia says there isn’t a way to tell quite how extensive the damage might be until he wakes up, and the longer he stays under the better his chances are.”

Wedge nods. “That’s good. I’m glad.” He pauses for a moment, and Biggs wonders what he’s going to say. “I want to thank him for looking after Rey. For throwing himself back into a fight he wanted to avoid. If he hadn’t…” Wedge turns his face into Biggs’ neck and closes his eyes. His voice is a little strained. “We might never have got the chance to see her again.”

Biggs reaches up and grasps one of Wedge’s hands, holding it tight to his chest. “We did, Wedge, that’s all the matters,” he says. He tilts his head up, brushing his nose against Wedge’s jaw and Wedge moves in response, allowing Biggs to kiss him gently. “Besides, I don’t think we’ll have any problems convincing him to keep looking out for her. Or her him. Actually, we might end up restraining one of them from taking off after the other. Going through what they did – it bonds people together. You and I know that as well as anyone.”

They’d fallen in love over it.

“I know,” Wedge says, nuzzling into Biggs. “I came out that trench and knew – I knew that you’d be important to me for the rest of our lives, regardless of anything else.” And then he stiffens, looking over at Finn. “Wait. You don’t think—”

“That she loves him?” Biggs answers. Rey had never been old enough for this concept to come up, but Biggs has wondered over the years what would have happened if it had. If they’d got to have her growing up. And Wedge is reacting exactly how Biggs thought he would – the proud, protective father. “I think she does. Whether that means a relationship… I don’t know. That’s for them. But I think the feelings are there.”

“But. But.” Wedge is struggling, loosening his grip so he could turn to look at Biggs properly. “She’s only nineteen. Our little girl.”

“Luke was nineteen when he shot down the Death Star,” Biggs says. And nineteen when the pair of them had taken him to bed.

“Don’t remind me,” Wedge says with a grown. “Oh, Force. Really?”

“Yeah,” Biggs says.

Wedge sighs, and Biggs just holds him loosely. “We missed so much,” Wedge says, in a low, quiet voice. “And I know she’s not my little girl anymore, but… She’s still so young. And she’s had to deal with so much. Is it wrong to want to protect her?”

“Not at all,” Biggs replies. “I feel the same way, honestly, Wedge. I want to wrap her in blankets and put three square meals a day in front of her and ensure she never knows hurt again. But that wouldn’t be fair to her, after all she’s been through.” He looks over at Finn. “And to protect her from him… We’d be taking away one of the few good things she found for herself. I won’t do that. Now, if Dameron gets involved on the other hand—”

“Wait, what?”

Biggs eyes Wedge. “You didn’t see the way he was looking at her? More to the point, the way he looks at Finn? That’s the real threat.”

Wedge sighs, leaning over. Biggs budges so there’s enough room on the chair and Wedge sits beside him, the two of them close and flush. Wedge has one of his hands pressed to his forehead as he glances over at Biggs. “Dameron’s, what, thirty?”

“Thirty two,” Biggs says.

“Kriffing hells,” Wedge curses.

“He’s a good kid,” Biggs says. “Man, really, yes. She could do worse. But, yes, you could probably get away with a protective father routine on that one. There’s enough of an age gap to warrant it.”

Wedge is quiet for a long moment. “Yeah,” he says. “Maybe. Known bigger – hell, that’s what, about what it was between Han and Leia? That worked.” He shakes his head. “I just… in my head, she’s stuck at five years old. I haven’t caught up yet. And that’s my problem, not hers, but… it’s going to take some time.”

“She’ll understand,” Biggs says. “Don’t stress about it, Wedge. None of us know what we’re doing, not really.”

Biggs wraps an arm around Wedge, and Wedge rests his head on Biggs’ shoulder. “That’s true,” Wedge says. “I guess I just want to be my best for her.”

“You’ve never been anything less.”

.

**Fourteen and a half years ago:**

It was a sunny day, and Biggs was taking every advantage of that fact. He was sitting outside to file datawork, rather than cramming himself into the home office, and looked out across the wide open field in front of their home.

In the distance, he could see Luke and Rey. They were doing something; Biggs had no idea what. He’d never claimed to understand a word of this Jedi stuff. He just went along with it. Luke had started to teach her in earnest, these last few months, developing her awareness in the Force.

It was a bone of contention between him and Wedge. Wedge wanted to give her a normal childhood, as much as was possible, without the pressures of learning about the Force. Luke argued that it would be easier for her if she grew up gradually learning things, and that there was no harm in teaching her anything now.

(Luke’s argument wasn’t going terrifically well, because as far as the Jedi academy was concerned, he took very few students younger than their mid-teens.)

Biggs’ work had kept him out of the discussion, but he understood that a compromise of sorts had been reached. Luke would give Rey a small amount of private tutelage in the Force, while Wedge saw her through requisite schooling and a childhood that involved play, and freedom.

Biggs turned his attention back to the requisition forms he was supposed to be combing through. He’d long since accepted that if he wanted to spend more time at home, it would involve more datawork – he took jobs that were ground-based and involved a lot of administration because of the fact he could do so much of it at home – but he still hated it.

He envied Wedge, who’d resigned and not signed a single piece of datawork since then. Being a full-time-father suited him.

He flicked his way through the forms, approving them quickly. The work was dull and monotonous, and he focused on getting through as much of it as he could. The sooner it was done, the sooner he could get back to his family.

Then he heard a cry.

It was a sharp, high one, and Biggs has no doubt who made it. Rey. He tossed his datapad aside, and was on his feet and out into the field in a moment. If something had happened to her—

“Rey!” he called. “Luke?” He looked around, searching for both of them. He saw a crouched form – Luke – fifty metres or so away, and ran over.

Rey’s face was scrunched up in tears, and Luke had pulled her onto his knee. She was holding her hands tight, and Biggs could see that her knees were scraped up, badly. “What happened?”

“Just a little fall, right, Rey?” Luke’s voice held the tone that Biggs knew was meant to be soothing, but it rarely worked on Rey. And it wasn’t working now. “Nothing to worry about.”

She stopped her tears for a moment, contemplating his words. But it clearly wasn’t just a little fall – Biggs could tell. “It hurts!” she said, her lower lip wobbling. “I want Papa. Papa always makes things better.”

Force, of course she wanted Wedge – who wasn’t around right now, and wasn’t expected back until this evening. “Sorry, Rey.” Biggs reached over, taking one of her hands in his. Partly to give her comfort, partly in an attempt to inspect the damage. “Papa isn’t here right now. But hey, I’m here, and Luke’s here, and everything’s going to be okay, yeah?”

Biggs put a brave face on, and hoped that Rey believed him. She considered him, and then gave a tight bob of her head. “Yeah,” she said.

“Let’s get you inside and cleaned up then.” Biggs released her hand. “Who do you want to carry you? Me or Pa?”

Rey’s expression was serious as she weighed the pros and cons of each choice. “You.” She extended her arms towards Biggs, and he smiled at her as he swept her up, settling her on his hip.

Biggs took her inside, and got the small medkit from under the bathroom sink, and set to cleaning her wounds. Luke sat alongside them, talking Rey through some Jedi exercise that was supposed to help with pain management. Biggs answer to that was to fetch Kettch from Rey’s bed. She was holding him close, even now, and he seemed to have soothed away the worst of it.

Biggs’ datawork was forgotten in seeing to Rey. He’d never been the best at this, but he threw himself into an afternoon of fun and games, playing with Rey’s dolls and watching her favourite holo show. She helped him make dinner, too, and was a better helper than Luke had ever been.

“Pa and I will clean up,” he told her, as she brought her plate into the kitchen. “You go play a bit more, then it’ll be time for clean-up and bed.”

She nodded, and ran off to her room. Once he was satisfied that she was out of earshot, Biggs turned to Luke. “What the hell happened out there? And don’t give me any bullshit about a fall, I know you could have prevented something like that.”

Luke sighed, leaning on the surface. “I was showing her my lightsaber.” He was looking away from Biggs, refusing to meet his eyes. “It was let her fall on the ground, or…” Biggs approached Luke, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Or?” he queried, though he suspected he knew what might have happened.

“Or she’d be even worse off than a couple of scraped knees, okay, Biggs.”

Luke was shaking, and Biggs wrapped his arms around him, pulling Luke back against his chest. In a way, he was relieved at how shaken Luke is by this. Biggs never quite thought he’d entirely thought through the reality of teaching a five year old girl how to be a Jedi. “She’s okay, Luke,” Biggs said. “You didn’t do her any harm.”

“This time.” Luke took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself. “But… what it…?”

“This is why Wedge doesn’t want you training her, you know.”

Luke spun around to face Biggs. “Force, Wedge— What’s he going to say?”

Biggs shook his head. “I don’t know. But you’re going to have to tell him this happened, and I don’t expect he’ll be best pleased.”

Luke’s face turned into a grimace. “Yeah, I think you’re right. When’s he back?”

“Not for another hour or so, I think. He said to get Rey ready for bed, and hopefully he’d be back for bedtime.”

“Okay.”

They both turned back to the clean up, putting plates in the dishwasher. Luke went to oversee Rey’s bath, and then dressed her in soft pyjamas. Biggs attempted to file the last of the datawork he was supposed to get done today. He had no real wish to still be doing it into the night.

Just when he and Luke are contemplating whether they should put Rey to bed anyway, Wedge walked in the door.

“Papa!” Rey ran to him, and Wedge dropped his kit bag and caught her up in one smooth motion. Anyone would think he’d been away for a week, not just a day. “Papa, I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Rey.” It was clear that Wedge had had a long day, but he’d wiped all that exhaustion off his face for Rey. His delight was clear. “Now, isn’t it your bedtime?”

“Yes!” She giggled, aware that she was technically past it. “I was waiting for you. I want to hear more of ‘The Bantha and his Boy’, please.”

Wedge grinned. “Okay. I’ll read you the next chapter. Then it really is bed.” He whisked her off, and Biggs knew that it was likely that one chapter would become two, because Wedge didn’t have a good track record of telling Rey no about things like this.

It was half an hour before Wedge returned. His face was grim. Exhaustion hung around him like a shroud. “What happened?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe and raking a hand through his hair. “To Rey?”

Luke stood up, and walked over to Wedge. He spoke in hushed tones, with a bowed head, explaining the incident which Biggs still didn’t fully understand. But this was between them. They were the ones who were her parents, who were responsible for her – Biggs, he wasn’t around enough to make decisions like this. He didn’t know her well enough.

“She’s a child, Luke,” Biggs heard Wedge say. “I know you have good intentions, and meditation, that sort of thing, it’ll serve her well. But a lightsaber? What were you thinking?”

For a moment, Biggs feared that Luke was going to argue. They’d unearthed some evidence that suggested it had been standard practice for younglings in the Jedi temple to practice with lightsabers. But Luke backed down. “I wasn’t,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey.” Wedge nudged Luke’s chin, so Luke was looking up at him. “I’m not blaming you. I’m just… worried about her, that’s all.” He gave Luke a chaste kiss. “And I don’t want to say never, but maybe, back off for a little bit? I don’t think Rey’s really processed it yet, but I think she was shaken by it all. So…”

“That's fine,” Luke said. “I—”

“You need to get your head round it too?”

“Yeah.”

Wedge wrapped his arms around Luke. Luke laid his head on Wedge’s shoulder, and the pair of them stood there for a long moment.

“Come on,” Biggs said, walking over to join them. “It’s been a long day. You look shattered.” He directed this comment to Wedge, who just nodded in agreement. “Let's go to bed ourselves. We can talk about this more in the morning.”

.

**Now:**

There’s something about the sight of the Millennium Falcon coming in to land that always stays with you.

For Leia, there are as many bittersweet memories as there are happy ones. For Biggs, and Wedge, it will always be the ship that saved their lives on that first Death Star run.

And now it is the ship that is bringing Luke Skywalker back to them.

They’ve had a single communication from Rey since she left, two days ago, to say that she was on her way back. They’d sent her rendezvous co-ordinates for the Echo of Hope. And now she is here.

It’s the night shift. There’s a tech or two hanging about doing minor repairs, but otherwise it’s just them. Leia. Wedge. Biggs. And then Poe Dameron and Finn, slightly off to the side, Finn in a hover-chair as he’s still recovering from his injuries.

The Falcon lands with a clunk and a tell-tale whine of something being not quite right. “That’s the rear couplings gone screwy,” Wedge comments.

“Left-side ventral power converter fluctuates,” Leia corrects. “They never did manage to fix it. Guess Rey hasn’t gotten round to it yet.”

Biggs has never been as concerned with the Falcon’s state of repair as anyone else he knows has been. It flew; that was enough. But he recognises Leia and Wedge’s comments for what they are: nervous. No one’s seen Luke for fourteen years. Understandably, things are a little tense.

The gangway lowers and Artoo is the first one off it, beeping out a string of foul binary curses directed at Luke. Which means that Luke is fine. If he wasn’t, Artoo would have toned it down. That’s just the way he is. Chewie follows, not far behind.

He stops to talk to Leia, in low, rumbling tones.

“Do you think we’re crowding him?” Wedge asks, moving closer to Biggs to he can whisper. “Luke. All standing here waiting for him. It’s hardly the most welcoming thing.”

“No idea,” Biggs replies. “And quiet. I’m trying to hear Chewie.” Not that Biggs’ Shyriiwook has ever been particularly great, so he’s only picking up pieces. Leia seems to be enquiring after Luke’s health, and according to Chewie… well, it could be worse. There are a lot of words that Han always translated as ‘idiot’ and variants upon it being tossed around. Biggs suspects they mean something stronger.

“Anything interesting?” Wedge asks, voice low.

If Biggs’ Shyriiwook is bad, Wedge’s is atrocious. “Luke’s an idiot, basically.”

“What’s new?” Wedge responds.

Chewie makes a low, mournful sound. For all that he’s criticising Luke – he’s also saying that the man is intensely sad. Leia shakes her head. “He shouldn’t have bloody ran away to deal with this on his own,” she says. “And he shouldn’t still be hiding now. Idiot.” She pats Chewie on the arm, thankful, then presses up the ramp at some speed.

Chewie makes the wookiee equivalent of a sigh. “How are you?” Biggs asks.

Well, Biggs gathers from the response. And then there’s an addition, a phrase that Biggs has heard many times before – though it had usually been directed at Leia.

“Yeah, we know we married an idiot, but he’s our idiot.”

Wedge gives a short chuckle at that. “That he is.” He smiles wide, tightening the arm he has slung around Biggs’ waist. All they can do is wait.

Eventually, Rey comes down the gangway, staff across her back and Luke’s old lightsaber on her belt. She looks well enough, and her face lights up when she catches sight of Finn across the way. But she still comes to Biggs and Wedge first, hugging both of them. “How is he?” Biggs asks.

Rey pulls a face. “Eh.” She shrugs her shoulders. “I mean, I can’t really say anything, but I don’t think being on that planet on his own for the last fourteen years has done him any favours. But he’s alright.”

“And you?” Wedge asks.

“I’m fine.” She places a hand on his arm in reassurance. “Really, Papa. I’m good. I’ve missed you both, but I’m good.”

“We’ve missed you too,” Biggs says. “As has someone else. Go and see your friends, Rey.” He puts a hand to her shoulder and gives her a gentle shove in Finn and Poe’s direction. She goes easily and willingly, and in short time there are cries of delight and laughter echoing from that corner, and chatter going a mile a minute.

“At least she’s happy,” Wedge says. “If that’s all that comes of this— that’s enough, I think.”

Biggs hopes that it won’t be. The sound of Rey’s laugh echoes across the hangar, providing a welcome distraction, until… Luke appears, in the shadow of the Falcon.

Wedge fumbles for Biggs’ hand, gripping it tight. They are both as nervous as each other, as Luke slowly steps down the Falcon’s gangway. They don’t move towards him – they’re past that. Luke has to come to them.

As he slowly steps his way over, it gives Biggs the chance to examine him. He’s aged – not just the fourteen years of time that have passed, but more than that. There is still some trace of the blonde in his hair, but almost all of it is grey. And then there’s the beard. Biggs has no inherent objection to it – Luke had worn one for years, before all of this – but… well, it’s a little scrappy and unkempt. He’s wearing robes that Biggs believes are traditional, though where he got them from is another story. It certainly wasn’t the sort of thing he wore back when he was teaching.

But he’s alive and he is in front of them and Biggs can barely believe it.

Luke comes to a halt, a little way away from them. His face is somber, and a little wistful, and above everything else: uncertain.

There's so much to say, so much to ask. Questions that have gone round and round Biggs’ head since the day Luke left and they all vanish, just as he opened his mouth to demand answers.

“Luke.” Wedge is the first one to speak. He’s shaking, Biggs can tell from the way his hand trembles, but not a note of that enters his voice.

“Wedge,” Luke replies. His voice is unshakeably calm – that’s a front too, Biggs suspects. “Biggs.” His hand is fiddling with his sleeve cuff, Biggs notices. He’s anxious. About what, exactly? Attempting to explain? There is that, Biggs thinks, but… Force, is Luke concerned that they won’t take him back?

Biggs has run it over in his head a million times what he’d do if Luke came back, and not once has he even considered rejecting Luke. “We’ve missed you,” he says. It’s a start. One that will hopefully reassure Luke that there are still feelings here, that they still want what they had before.

Luke looks a little startled. Biggs must have been onto something. “I’ve missed you too,” he says. “Both of you.”

“Then—” Biggs takes a deep breath. He feels Wedge give his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Why did you leave, Luke? Without telling us anything?”

“I—” Luke takes a step closer to them. “It’s a long story. And complicated. And I… maybe it was the wrong decision. Maybe I should have stayed. But…” He closes his eyes. “I’ll tell you. I promise. Everything that went through my head. Just… not now.”

The promise that he will is enough for Biggs. But Wedge has a question to ask – and Biggs knows that Luke’s answer has the potential to break everything. “Rey… Did you know she was alive, Luke? And all on her own out there?” Wedge’s voice shakes as he looks at Luke.

Luke shakes his head. “No.” He takes another step closer, this one in Wedge’s direction, and he looks straight at Wedge. “Force, Wedge, if I’d even suspected she made it out…” His eyes are wet, Biggs notices, and he’s struggling to maintain his composure. “I had no idea she was out there, alive. When she turned up… it was as much of a surprise to me as it was to you. I’d never have left her if I’d known. Never.”

He is vehement about this; his voice straining as he tries to convince Wedge.

Wedge slackens his jaw, unable to form a response that is in any way coherent. “Luke.” He steps forward and embraces Luke, pulling him close. In an instant, Luke’s hand circle Wedge and clutch at his jacket, and Luke’s face is buried in Wedge’s neck.

Biggs just watches them. There are still things that need to be said, but this… it’s a start. A good one. When Luke pulls away, he surreptitiously wipes his eyes with his sleeve, before looking up at Biggs.

Biggs wastes no time catching Luke in his arms, holding him tight – enough that he lifts Luke off his feet for a moment. Luke laughs, soft and gentle against Biggs’ neck. “Hey Biggs,” he says, his voice as affectionate as it was when they’d last seen each other on Tatooine.

“Hey Luke.” Biggs runs a hand along Luke’s jaw, and then uses his fingers to tip Luke’s chin up, and places his mouth over Luke’s in a sweet kiss. There’s something about the absence that makes the kiss all the more tender, but Biggs is hopeful that it won’t be another fourteen years before he kisses Luke again.

A warm weight presses against Biggs’ side, and when he turns, he sees that it’s Wedge. He leans over to kiss Luke too, his fingers gently pressing against Luke’s cheek. “Welcome home,” Wedge says.

Luke smiles. “Thanks.”

They stay like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other, until Wedge draws back. “Come on, Luke.” He took Luke’s hand. “Let’s go see our daughter. All three of us.”

“Yeah,” Luke says, taking Biggs hand in his. “Let’s.”


End file.
